THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


THE   ENGLISH   PEOPLE 
A  STUDY  OF  THEIR  POLITICAL  PSYCHOLOGY 


THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 


a  Stu^^  Of  tbclr  political  ps^cbolo^^ 


BY  \P 

EMILE^^  BOUTMY 

MEMBER    OF    THE    FRENCH     INSTITUTE 

AUTHOR   OP  "the   ENGLISH    CONSTITUTION,"    AND  "STUDIES   IN 

CONSTITUTIONAL   LAW— FRANCE,  ENGLAND,  AND 

THE  UNITED   STATES" 


TRANSLATED    FROM   THE    FRENCH    BY   E.  ENGLISH 


WITH    AN 


INTRODUCTION 


JOHN  EDWARD  COURTENAY  BODLEY 

CORRESPONDING  MEMBER  OF  THE  FRENCH  INSTITUTE 

AUTHOR   OF  "FRANCE" 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW     YORK     AND     LONDON 

Zbc  "Rnlckerbockcr  press 

1904 


JH5Z7 


Introduction 


I. 

When  the  publisher  of  this  volume  invited  me  to 
write  a  preface  to  it  I  felt  that  there  was  some  measure 
of  presumption  in  accepting  the  invitation,  there  being 
no  need  to  introduce  to  the  English  public  the  author 
of  the  original  work,  as  the  following  anecdote  will 
testify.  Some  years  ago  M.  Emile  Boutmy  received 
at  Oxford  the  honorary  degree  of  Doctor  of  Civil 
Law,  and  the  way  in  which  the  University  was  moved 
to  confer  that  distinction  upon  him  was  in  this  wise. 
Another  Frenchman,  who  had  written  upon  English 
institutions,  thought  that  the  crimson  and  scarlet  of 
the  Oxford  doctorate  would  appropriately  adorn  his 
labours.  He  therefore  appealed  to  M.  Boutmy  to 
lay  his  claims  before  the  academical  authorities.  But 
Oxford,  better  acquainted  with  the  work  of  the  self- 
effacing  advocate  than  of  the  less  modest  claimant, 
replied  to  the  former  in  the  words  of  the  Puritan 
maiden  of  Longfellow's  metrical  prose,  "  Why  don't 
you  speak  for  yourself,  John  .? "  Hence  it  was  that  in 
the  Sheldonian  Theatre  the  acts  and  words  of  M.  Emile 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

Boutmy  were  lauded  in  that  artless  Latin  with  which 
Encoenia  keeps  alive  the  memory  of  Thomas  Kerchever 
Arnold. 

The  story  was  told  to  me  on  the  shores  of  the  Lake 
of  Annecy.  Thither  I  had  gone  the  year  after  the 
death  of  Taine,  to  stay  with  his  stricken  family  in  their 
Savoyard  homestead,  a  peaceful  and  picturesque  dwell- 
ing of  monastic  origin,  and  to  study  in  his  deserted 
library,  among  his  annotated  books,  the  methods  by 
which  he  had  compiled  that  monument  of  industrious 
research  and  inductive  science,  "  Les  Origines  de  la 
France  Contemporaine,"  His  most  intimate  friend,  of 
the  long  last  period  of  his  life  in  which  he  wrote  that 
work,  was  M.  Boutmy,  who,  in  the  hope  of  passing 
many  summers  in  his  neighbourhood,  had  built  a 
cottage  at  Menthon.  Before  the  house  was  finished 
the  pleasing  prospect  from  its  windows  included  the 
burial-place  of  Taine,  on  a  wooded  knoll  between  the 
green  waters  of  the  lake  and  the  Alpine  slopes  which 
rise  above  the  venerable  birthplace  of  St.  Bernard.  It 
was  in  this  beautiful  corner  of  Savoy  that  in  1892  I 
had  already,  through  Taine,  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  author  of  this  volume.  I  had  taken  a  villa  on  the 
lake  in  order  to  spend  the  summer  months  near  the 
historian  and  philosopher,  whose  counsel  and  conversa- 
tion would  be  of  service  to  me  in  the  work  which  I  had 
recently  commenced.  His  health  was  already  failing, 
though  no  one  feared  that  the  end  was  only  a  few 
months'  distant  ;  and  on  the  too  rare  occasions  that  he 
gave  me  the  benefit  of  his  advice  he  was  usually  accom- 
panied by  M.  Boutmy.     The  last  long  conversation  I 


INTR  on  UCTION  vii 

ever  had  with  Taine  was  on  one  of  those  golden  Septem- 
ber days  of  transparent  atmosphere  which  are  frequent  in 
Savoy,  when  he  had  walked  with  his  friend  to  see  me 
at  Veyrier,  along  the  beautiful  lakeside  road,  familiar  to 
readers  of  the  "  Confessions  "  of  Jean-Jacques.  Then, 
as  always,  I  was  struck  by  the  air  of  confidence  with 
which  the  older  man  treated  the  younger,  who  had 
been  his  pupil  before  I  was  born,  in  the  first  days 
of  the  Second  Empire.  At  that  distant  time  Taine, 
who  was  himself  only  on  the  confines  of  manhood, 
and  who  was  soon  to  have  his  public  teaching 
restrained  by  the  restored  autocracy,  inspired  at  once 
in  his  disciple  an  admiration,  soon  to  ripen  into  an 
intimate  friendship,  which  was  never  interrupted  till 
his  death  forty  years  later. 

There  were  three  principal  points  of  sympathy  be- 
tween these  two  conscientious  students  of  the  human 
race.  In  the  first  place,  M.  Boutmy's  independent 
temperament  enabled  him  to  be  at  once  the  critic 
and  the  complement  of  his  master's  genius.  From 
the  earliest  hours  of  their  friendship  Taine  took  con- 
stant pleasure  in  conversing  with  his  pupil,  not  only 
advising  him  on  his  work,  but  confiding  in  him  and 
discussing  with  him  his  own  intellectual  doubts  and 
difficulties.  M.  Boutmy  was  at  that  period  more  pro- 
foundly penetrated  with  the  ideas  and  the  methods  of 
Taine  than  later  in  their  careers,  but  no  philosophical 
divergencies  ever  interfered  with  their  mutual  relations. 

In  the  second  place,  M.  Boutmy's  habits  of  thought 
and  attitude  as  a  Protestant  of  the  liberal  school  were 
welcome  to  Taine.     The  historian  of  the  "  Origins  of 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

Contemporary  France  "  was  not  a  croyant,  to  use  the 
French  term,  which  has  not  the  canting  sound  of  the 
English  word  "  believer."  But  as  years  went  on,  when, 
under  the  Third  Republic,  it  became  evident  that  French 
"  freethought  "  was  fated  to  belie  its  name  and  to  be 
identified  with  illiberal  sectarianism  of  the  narrowest 
intolerance,  Taine — in  spite  of  his  friendship  with 
Renan — lost  all  sympathy  with  the  anti-clerical  party, 
which  he  recognised  as  being  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
the  Jacobins,  whose  conquest  of  the  great  Revolution 
had  inspired  the  most  striking  chapters  of  his  last 
work.  Consequently,  he  felt  the  necessity  of  giving 
to  his  children  a  religious  training.  But  while  his 
passionless  study  of  the  educational  manuals  authorised 
by  the  French  episcopate  moved  him  to  deem  it 
impossible  to  submit  their  minds  to  the  discipline  of 
Catholic  instruction,  his  objection  to  purely  secular 
education  had  become  deeply  rooted.  It  was  with 
the  aid  of  his  friend  M.  Boutmy,  who  was  the  son-in- 
law  of  the  eloquent  Pastor  Bersier,  that  he  had  his 
children  instructed  in  the  elements  of  faith  and  religion 
as  taught  by  the  French  Reformed  Church — an  act  of 
paternal  inconsistency  which,  executed  with  less  frank- 
ness, has  its  counterpart  in  very  many  English 
families. 

The  third  bond  of  sympathy  between  the  two 
philosophers  was  associated  with  the  foundation  by 
M.  Boutmy  of  the  Ecole  Libre  des  Sciences  Politiques, 
of  which  he  is  still  the  director.  During  the  war  of 
1870  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  misfor- 
tunes   which    had    fallen    upon    France   were   in   some 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

degree  due  to  the  insufficient  knowledge  possessed  by 
the  French  upper  and  middle  classes  of  what  was 
going  on  in  foreign  lands.  In  seeking  a  remedy  for 
this  he  was  encouraged  by  Taine,  whose  works  on 
English  literature  and  on  Italian  art  had  displayed  his 
mastery  of  the  psychological  aspects  of  foreign  peoples, 
and  who  during  the  war  had  further  pursued  his 
studies  abroad  by  completing  his  "  Notes "  on 
England.  The  consequence  was  that  M.  Boutmy 
founded  the  now  famous  school  of  the  rue  Saint 
Guillaume,  which,  though  a  private  venture,  unsup- 
ported by  and  independent  of  the  State — as  its  name  of 
"  Ecole  Libre  "  indicates — has  become  the  recognised 
training  college  for  the  diplomatic  service  and  the  higher 
branches  of  the  civil  administration.  In  a  land  where 
the  "  University  "  once  had  the  monopoly  of  secondary 
and  superior  education,  and  where  the  tendency  of 
recent  legislation  is  to  revive  that  monopoly,  this 
private  institution,  with  its  advanced  course  of 
training  in  modern  languages,  in  comparative  legislation, 
and  in  the  political  and  constitutional  history  of  foreign 
nations,  is  regarded  without  jealousy  by  the  official 
Faculties  of  letters  and  of  jurisprudence.  They  rather 
consider  the  Ecole  Libre  as  a  necessary  complement  to 
their  less  specialised  classes.  Nearly  five  hundred  can- 
didates for  public  employment  take  advantage  annually 
of  the  education  imparted  by  a  staff  of  forty  professors, 
which  includes  some  of  the  most  eminent  historians, 
jurists,  and  economists  of  France  and  of  Europe,  who 
give  their  services  on  such  generous  terms  that  their 
teaching  is    placed    within    the    reach    of   students   of 


X  INTRODUCTION 

modest  resources  by  a  system  of  almost  nominal 
fees. 

If  I  have  mentioned  the  chief  bonds  of  sympathy 
which  united  the  lives  of  these  profound  thinkers,  it 
is  because  they  indicate  certain  special  qualifications 
possessed  by  M.  Boutmy  for  analysing  the  elements  of 
the  British  nation.  There  are  not  many  books  which 
have  more  effectively  penetrated  the  psychology  of  a 
people  than  has  Taine's  "  Histoire  de  la  litterature 
anglaise."  His  method  of  tracing  the  natural  history 
of  the  mind  and  soul  of  a  nation,  adown  the  ages,  may 
be  open  to  objection — indeed,  its  defects  have  been 
pointed  out  by  M.  Boutmy  himself.  But  it  is  manifest 
that  intimate  and  constant  intercourse  with  the  creator 
of  that  work  which,  when  it  appeared  in  1863,  seemed 
to  mark  a  new  era  in  philosophical  criticism,  was  an 
incomparable  training  for  one  who  was  moved  to  study 
the  undercurrents  as  well  as  the  superficial  phenomena 
of  the  English  people. 

The  second  point  to  which  I  referred,  the  Protes- 
tantism of  theauthor  of  the  following  work,  is  likewise 
an  advantageous  quality  in  a  French  critic  of  England. 
Before  long  I  hope  to  expound  the  peculiar  position 
of  the  Protestant  community  in  France,  which  is  unlike 
that  held  by  any  religious  sect  in  the  United  Kingdom. 
Here  it  must  suffice  to  say  that  it  places  Protestants 
in  an  attitude  of  detachment  from  certain  national 
prejudices,  which  has  laid  them  open  to  the  unjust 
reproach  of  being  deficient  in  patriotism.  Far  from 
that  reproach  being  founded  this  detached  attitude  has 
enabled  them  to  perform  signal  services  to  France,  even 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

in  the  direction  of  defending  their  hereditary  adversaries 
— witness  the  courageous  opposition  to  intolerant  anti- 
clericalism  displayed  by  certain  Protestant  poHticians  at 
a  crisis  when  Catholic  voices  have  been  dumb  or  inco- 
herent in  defence  of  their  Church.  In  a  short  monograph 
in  memory  of  Edmond  Scherer — the  brilliant  rival  of 
Sainte  Beuve,  who  became  a  critic  when  he  ceased  to  be 
a  Protestant  pastor  and  a  Christian — M.  Boutmy  has 
given  an  example  of  this  power  of  detachment.  "In 
contrasting  the  somewhat  parallel  cases  of  Renan  and 
of  Scherer  he  draws  a  fine  comparison  between  the 
spiritual  declensions  of  a  Catholic  and  of  a  Protestant, 
when  faith  is  waning  and  "  intellectual  liberation  "  is 
at  hand.  But  there  is  nothing  in  the  picture  to  denote 
the  religious  origin  of  the  artist  except  its  air  of 
detached  impartiality.  Now  this  quality  is  of  the 
highest  utility  in  one  who  gives  himself  to  the  study 
of  a  neighbouring  nation.  There  is,  however,  a  further 
advantage  possessed  by  a  French  Protestant  when  the 
object  of  his  inquest  is  England.  For  a  Frenchman 
who  is  a  devout  Catholic  or  a  sceptical  freethinker — 
unless  he  have  the  genius  of  a  Voltaire  or  of  a  Taine — 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  make  a  just  appreciation  of 
the  influence  which  religion  has  had  on  our  national 
character.  By  such,  English  Christianity  is  regarded  as 
little  more  than  a  veil  for  dissimulating  a  moral  standard 
which,  neither  higher  nor  lower  tha^i  that  of  other 
nations,  is  steeped  in  self-righteousness.  That  form 
of  British  pharisaism,  which  of  late  years  has  been 
ascribed  to  "  the  Nonconformist  conscience  " — though 
it  is  not  the  monopoly  either  of  English  Dissenters  or 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

of  English  Protestants — is  a  phenomenon  difficult  to 
explain  to  the  best-disposed  foreigner  who  has  visited 
our  cities  or  read  our  law  reports.  But  a  French 
Protestant,  whether  of  the  liberal  or  of  the  orthodox 
school,  knows  from  the  hereditary  education  he  has 
received  that,  while  religious  profession  in  England 
may  have  less  relation  with  moral  conduct  than  for- 
merly, the  religious  instincts  and  practises  of  the  nation 
are  not  the  outcome  of  calculating  insincerity,  but  form 
part  of  its  historical  character.  He  is  further  aware 
that  that  character  cannot  be  understood  without 
reference  to  the  position  held  by  various  and  rival 
forms  of  Christianity,  in  the  hearts  of  the  people, 
during  the  centuries  of  national  development  since 
the  Renaissance.  Hence  a  French  writer  of  the  origin 
and  training  of  M.  Boutmy,  from  the  outset  of  his 
studies,  is  able  to  reach  the  deepest  springs  of  our 
national  existence,  and  at  the  same  time  to  avoid 
certain  misunderstandings  which  sometimes  lead  his 
countrymen,  ultramontane  and  infidel,  to  distort  their 
view  of  English  life 

The  third  point  which  I  mentioned,  M.  Boutmy's 
connection  with  the  Ecole  Libre,  enabled  him  to  devote 
a  large  portion  of  his  busy  life  to  the  special  study  of 
English  institutions.  No  foreigner  since  Delolme  has 
acquired  a  profounder  knowledge  of  the  British  Con- 
stitution. But  M.  Boutmy's  works  display  more 
penetration  and  are  of  wider  scope  than  the  forgotten 
treatises  of  the  Swiss  publicist,  though  they  are  less 
pretentious.  Some  of  his  little  volumes  relating  to 
England    and    to    English-speaking    nations,    though 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

manifestly  only  revised  issues  of  his  lectures  to  young 
French  students,  can  be  read  with  profit  even  by  those 
^\\o  deem  themselves  experts  in  the  subjects  treated. 
One  of  them,  his  "Etudes  de  Droit  Constitutionnel," 
laid  me  under  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  author  which  I 
am  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  confessing.  In 
1895  ^  ^^*^  been  studying  France  without  interruption 
for  nearly  five  years.  So  rich  was  the  material  I  had 
amassed  that  to  organise  it  seemed  an  almost  hopeless 
task.  The  difficulty  was  how  to  make  a  start  of 
writing  the  long-projected  work.  It  was  soon  after 
the  lamented  death  of  P.  G.  Hamerton,  and  some 
volumes  from  his  well-chosen  library  had  come  into 
my  hands.  When  the  parcel  of  books  reached  me  the 
first  which  I  chanced  to  open  was  this  manual  of 
Constitutional  Law.  Turning  over  its  pages  I  fell 
upon  a  passage  wherein  an  idea  was  formulated  which 
had  been  flitting  through  my  mind  for  many  a  month. 
My  starting-point  was  at  last  clearly  indicated,  and 
three  years  later  the  work  was  completed,  though  the 
chapter  which  was  thus  initiated  stood  eventually  in 
the  centre  and  not  at  the  beginning  of  my  book. 

II. 

The  personal  experience  which  I  have  ventured  to 
relate  furnishes  a  just  testimony  to  the  suggestiveness 
of  M.  Boutmy's  work.  But  though  its  lucid  ex- 
position and  its  clearly-cut  formulae  may  inspire  an 
English  writer  with  new  ideas,  or  reveal  to  him  in  a 
fresh  guise  old  ones  already  vaguely  conceived,  it  will 
never  lead  him  to  adopt  the  method  which  the  author 


xiv  INTR  OD  UCTION 

has  followed  with  striking  effect  in  this  volume.  For 
in  some  respects  it  is  a  handbook  to  explain  why  French 
and  English  can  never  completely  understand  one 
another's  ways  of  thought,  can  never  mount  or 
descend  to  the  same  standpoint  for  their  view  of 
humanity. 

This  opposition  of  the  two  races  is  constantly  present 
in  the  mind  of  the  author  while  composing  his  work. 
It  provides  the  prevailing  theme  which  runs  through 
his  pages  ;  it  forms  the  basis  of  not  a  few  of  his 
arguments  ;  it  accounts  for  many  a  pregnant  conclusion 
which  will  impress  the  English  reader  the  more  pro- 
foundly because  it  never  occurred  to  him  in  his 
unaided  study  of  his  own  people  and  of  their  insti- 
tutions. M.  Boutmy  at  the  outset  of  his  treatise  does 
not  hesitate  to  commit  himself  to  a  formula  which,  in 
his  opinion,  indicates  the  impassable  gulf  dividing  the 
mental  habits  of  the  two  peoples.  He  finds  it  ready 
to  hand  in  the  sayings  of  a  great  English  orator  and 
of  a  French  statesman,  born  a  generation  later. 
Edmund  Burke,  he  says,  did  not  disguise  his  hatred 
for  abstractions  ;  while  Royer-CoUard,  who  also  had 
witnessed  the  French  Revolution,  and  who  under  the 
Restoration,  if  he  did  not  invent  the  term  "  doc- 
trinaire "  was  the  chief  of  the  group  which  bore  that 
name,  boasted  of  his  contempt  for  facts.  These  two 
opinions  sum  up,  in  the  author's  view,  the  opposing 
qualities  of  the  two  peoples. 

This  theme  is  repeated  again  and  again  in  different 
forms  throughout  the  volume.  In  one  place  attention 
is  called  to  the  lack  of  aptitude  which  the  English  have 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

for  metaphysical  speculation  ;  in  another  passage  is 
described  the  laborious  difficulty  which  the  pursuit 
of  abstractions  causes  to  British  mentality.  In  the 
latter  connection  M.  Boutmy  remarks  upon  •  the 
inability  of  the  English  mind  to  generalise.  This  is 
probably  true  ;  but  it  may  perhaps  be  retorted  that  the 
disadvantage  of  the  French  tendency  to  generalise  is 
seen  in  certain  sweeping  arguments  which  he  draws 
from  the  general  proposition  that  Englishmen  are 
incapable  of  abstract  speculation.  In  this  he  seems 
to  follow  the  earlier  method  of  Taine,  whose  plan, 
in  the  first  period  of  his  work,  was  to  seek  out  a 
general  idea  around  which  he  could  group  harmoniously 
the  results  of  his  researches.  In  a  letter  to  Cornelius 
de  Witt,  written  in  1853,  on  the  eve  of  the  publi- 
cation of  his  "  Essai  sur  Tite-Live,"  which  first  brought 
him  into  fame,  he  says :  "  The  difficulty  which  I 
experience  in  an  investigation  is  to  discover  a 
characteristic  and  dominant  feature  from  which  every- 
thing can  be  geometrically  deduced — in  a  word,  what 
I  need  is  to  have  the  formula  of  my  subject.  It  seems 
to  me  that  that  of  Livy  is  the  following  :  an  orator 
who  becomes  an  historian.  All  his  faults,  all  his 
qualities,  the  influence  which  he  contracted  from  his 
education,  from  his  family,  from  his  career,  from  the 
genius  of  his  nation  and  of  his  epoch,  all  may  be  traced 
to  that."  In  the  same  way  many  of  M.  Boutmy's 
illuminating  conclusions  are  deduced  from  the  formula 
that  an  Englishman  is  an  animal  incapable  of  abstract 
speculation. 

The  foregoing  letter  is  taken  from  a  volume  of  the 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

correspondence  of  Taine  which  has  been  recently 
published,  and  which  his  widow  sent  to  me  since  I 
wrote  the  first  pages  of  this  preface.  In  a  later  letter, 
of  the  same  collection,  addressed  to  William  Guizot, 
the  kinsman  of  his  other  correspondent,  Taine  throws 
a  light  on  another  phase  of  French  methods  of  study 
and  research.  As  M.  Boutmy,  in  the  production  of 
his  excellent  series  of  philosophical  works  has  followed, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  method  here  indicated  by  his 
friend  and  master,  it  will  be  interesting  to  quote  a 
passage.  Taine  was  in  England  in  the  summer  of  1 860, 
preparing  his  "Notes  sur  I'Angleterre,"  and  he  writes: 
"  I  am  now  at  Manchester,  studying  the  working 
classes,  and  I  may  tell  you  that  I  have  conceived  the 
highest  esteem  for  literature  and  the  information  which 
one  can  gather  from  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
judgments  to  which  it  guided  me  when  I  was  in  Paris 
were  by  no  means  erroneous.  The  sight  of  things  has 
in  no  wise  controverted  my  forecasts  formed  in  a 
library;  but  while  this  has  confirmed  and  developed 
them,  I  am  persuaded  that  my  general  formulas  remain 
entirely  accurate.  From  this  I  conclude  that  the 
opinions  which  we  are  able  to  form  on  ancient  Greece 
and  Rome,  on  Italy,  Spain,  and  England  of  the 
Renaissance,  are  correct." 

With  all  due  respect  to  the  opinion  of  Taine,  it 
seems  to  me  obvious  that  ancient  Greece  and  Rome, 
Europe  of'  the  Renaissance,  and  contemporary  life  in 
the  civilised  world  stand  in  three  distinct  categories 
as  regards  the  fidelity  with  whicjj  an  historian  can 
treat    them.      My    impression    is    that     it    is    beyond 


INTR  OD  UCTION  xvii 

the  power  of  the  most  profound  and  painstaking 
humanist,  steeped  in  the  classical  literature  of  antiquity, 
to  reconstitute  the  lives  of  the  Greeks  and  the 
Romans  as  they  were  really  lived.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  most  polished  exercises  in  Greek  and 
Latin  prose  and  verse,  executed  by  the  best  modern 
scholars,  would,  to  an  Athenian  of  the  age  of  Pericles, 
or  to  a  Roman  of  the  age  of  Augustus,  have  a  sound 
similar  to  that  which  an  essay  in  Baboo  English 
produces  on  our  own  ears.  In  the  same  way  it  is 
probable  that  Beckker's  "  Gallus,"  or  Bulwer's  "  Last 
Days  of  Pompeii  "  (to  mention  two  very  dissimilar 
efforts  to  make  antiquity  live  again)  call  forth  genial 
mirth  in  the  Elysian  Fields,  if  the  Immortals  are 
permitted  to  take  an  interest  in  modern  literature. 
So  vague  are  the  notions  of  antiquity  possessed  even 
by  classical  experts,  that  the  other  day  I  saw  in  a 
couple  of  recent  Latin  text-books  published  by  an 
eminent  English  firm,  one  of  them  Dr.  Rutherford's 
excellent  edition  of  Caesar's  "  Gallic  War,"  the  other 
Livy's  "Second  Punic  War,"  edited  by  a  Rugby 
master,  the  self-same  illustration  serving  to  mislead 
schoolboys  as  to  what  Roman  uniforms  were  like.  It 
was  as  though  the  same  picture  were  used  to  represent 
the  Battle  of  the  Boyne  and  the  Charge  at  Balaclava. 

The  Renaissance  is  not  in  the  same  case.  We 
have  the  paintings  of  that  glorious  age  which  show 
us  how  its  men  and  women  looked  and  dressed. 
We  have  examples  of  its  domestic  architecture,  not 
ruined  fragments  buried  beneath  earth  or  volcanic 
larva   for   nearly   a    score    of   centuries,  but  dwelling- 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

places  in  which  life  has  gone  on  uninterrupted,  from 
the  time  when  the  stones  were  piled  to  the  present 
hour.  The  languages  which  Englishmen  and  French- 
men talk  to-day  took  definite  form  in  that  period  : 
the  printing-press  stereotyped  them  and  put  on  record 
the  daily  round  of  our  not-distant  ancestors,  which  we 
can  follow  in  its  minutest  details.  All  the  same,  if 
the  most  industrious  student  of  the  Renaissance, 
French  or  English,  could  be  transported  back  through 
the  centuries  to  Sir  Thomas  More's  parlour  at  Chelsea, 
or  to  the  boudoir  of  Diane  de  Poictiers  on  the  Loire, 
it  is  more  than  likely  that  he  would  find  himself 
among  surroundings  entirely  unfamiliar  and  unex- 
pected. 

The  study  of  a  contemporary  people  by  a  student 
belonging  to  another  nation  of  equal  civilisation,  with 
the  aid  of  books  and  other  printed  documents,  stands 
on  quite  a  different  footing.  The  progress  of  civili- 
sation is  a  great  international  leveller.  While,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  mental  habits  of  two  neighbouring  peoples  may 
be  entirely  different,  while  their  social  ways  in  all 
classes  may  present  marked  dissimilarities,  there  are  in 
our  time  a  number  of  features  and  institutions,  of 
modern  growth,  which  have  become  common  to  all 
civilised  nations.  Such  are  the  public  press,  the 
railway,  the  postal  service,  the  telegraph  and  all  the 
applications  of  steam  and  electricity  to  means  of 
communication.  Such,  again,  are  the  various  forms 
of  representative  government  which,  since  the  French 
Revolution  ;  have  come  into  existence  in  all  lands 
reckoned    as    civilised   with    the    exception  of  Russia. 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

If,  therefore,  a  person  of  trained  intellect  be  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  language  and  history  of  a  country 
not  his  own,  he  can  before  visiting  it  by  an  assiduous 
study  of  all  branches  of  its  contemporary  literature, 
and  by  a  constant  perusal  of  its  journals,  arrive  at  a 
knowledge  of  the  inner  economy  of  its  people  which 
was  not  within  the  reach  of  stay-at-home  travellers  in 
the  eighteenth  century.  Such  an  one  on  arriving 
in  the  land  which  he  has  studied  in  his  library, 
provided  he  is  able  to  converse  in  the  language  of  its 
people,  may  experience  to  a  greater  degree  the 
sensations  which  Taine  described  in  his  letter  from 
England  in  i860,  as  in  the  intervening  period  the 
points  of  resemblance  in  the  material  existence  of 
civilised  nations  have  become  more  numerous. 

There  is,  however,  one  set  of  phenomena  which 
may  have  a  bewildering  effect  on  the  stranger  best 
equipped  for  studying  a  foreign  country.  When 
he  first  sets  foot  in  it  the  outward  aspect  of  his 
new  surroundings  may  so  work  upon  his  mind  as 
to  modify  the  result  of  many  years'  reading  in  a  distant 
library.  Even  now,  when  Paris  is  practically  nearer 
to  London  than  was  Brighton  within  living  memory, 
and  in  spite  of  the  increasingly  cosmopolitan  character 
of  the  boulevards,  the  English  traveller,  most  familiar 
with  the  easy  journey  between  the  two  capitals  of 
Western  Europe,  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  the 
spectacle  greeting  his  eye  on  the  Parisian  streets,  which 
denotes  that  here  the  conditions  of  life  are,  in  some 
respects,  totally  different  to  those  he  left  behind  a  few 
hours  before  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames. 


XX  INTR  OD  UCTION 

Visual  impressions  such  as  these  can  have  had  no  effect 
on  the  appreciations  of  M.  Boutmy,  either  to  complete 
or  to  disturb  them.  For  the  author  of  these  graphic 
pages,  though  he  has  four  or  five  times  visited  England, 
has  never  seen  the  superficial  aspect  of  our  national  life 
of  which  he  has  detected  the  innermost  workings.  He 
is  not  afflicted  with  the  total  eclipse  which  turned 
Milton's  view  from  the  political  movement  of  the 
world  to  the  contemplation  of  the  heavenly  vision. 
He  can  walk  abroad  unattended.  He  can  discern 
the  verdure  of  the  trees  by  day  and  the  stars  as 
they  shine  by  night.  He  can  faintly  distinguish  the 
features  of  a  person  who  is  talking  to  him  at  very 
close  quarters.  But  the  general  aspect  of  the  world  is 
hidden  from  him,  while  reading  and  writing  are  both 
entirely  beyond  his  powers.  It  is  doubtful  if  there  has 
ever  been  another  case  of  one  thus  afflicted  who, 
conquering  his  infirmity,  has  been  able  to  study 
minutely  and  accurately  the  elements  of  a  nation  to 
which  he  is  a  stranger.  I  do  not  know  of  another 
example  of  one  so  situated  even  attempting  the  arduous 
feat.  Henry  Fawcett,  a  generation  ago,  won  the 
admiration  of  his  countrymen  by  the  courage  with 
which,  overcoming  his  blindness,  he  became  a  master  of 
economic  science,  an  active  politician,  and  the  capable 
administrator  of  a  department  of  the  State.  But  in  his 
case  the  subjects  in  which  he  attained  high  eminence, 
under  his  aflliction,  had  been  familiar  to  him  before  he 
lost  his  eyesight  ;  and  when  incidentally  he  dealt  with 
what  was  occurring  in  distant  lands,  it  was  only  in  the 
same  way  in  which  all  politicians  or  publicists  habitually 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

treat  of  the  affairs  of  countries  which  they  have  never 
seen.  M.  Boutmy  seems  to  present  an  unique  example 
of  one  deprived  of  the  use  of  his  eyes  who  has  essayed 
and  brought  to  a  successful  issue  the  analysis  of  the 
elements  of  a  contemporary  nation  not  his  own.  The 
readers  of  this  volume,  who  do  not  turn  to  the  preface 
until  they  have  mastered  the  text  of  the  work,  will  not 
suspect  that  it  was  produced  by  one  stricken  with 
complete  literary  blindness.  On  every  page,  if  the 
translator  has  conveyed  thither  the  spirit  of  the  original, 
the  reader  will  detect  signs  that  it  is  from  the  pen  of 
one  whose  habits  of  thought  are  not  those  of  an  English 
philosopher,  for  which  cause  the  book  abounds  in 
conclusions  as  unexpected  as  they  are  interesting  and 
suggestive.  But  there  is  nothing  in  it  to  show  that 
it  was  the  work  of  one  who  was  not  In  full  possession 
of  all  the  senses  which  Taine  enjoyed  when  he  composed 
his  famous  "  Notes "  on  England,  according  to  the 
method  which  I  have  already  indicated. 

While  profoundly  admiring  the  results  which  eminent 
Frenchmen,  such  as  these,  have  obtained  by  their 
method  of  studying  foreign  countries,  I  confess  myself 
entirely  incapable  of  following  it.  The  plan  which  we 
found  Taine  pursuing  at  Manchester  nearly  half  a 
century  ago  is  precisely  that  of  M.  Boutmy,  as  he 
described  it  to  me  in  a  recent  letter — making  allowance 
for  the  visual  infirmity  of  the  latter.  For  each  of  his 
journeys  to  England  he  prepared  himself  with  con- 
scientious care.  The  questions  which  he  proposed  to 
put  to  representative  Englishmen,  the  problems  of  our 
national  life  which  he  wished  to  solve,  were  all  arranged, 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

according  to  categories,  in  note-books,  at  the  head  of 
blank  pages  to  be  filled  in  as  his  information  was 
acquired.  That  his  literary  studies  of  political  and 
social  England  before  his  arrival  on  our  shores  had 
been  profound,  that  his  native  guides  were  well  chosen, 
that  the  examination  to  which  he  submitted  them  was 
penetrating,  cannot  be  doubted  by  any  English  reader  of 
his  perspicuous  pages.  But  such  an  excellent  and 
enlightening  result  could  have  never  been  obtained 
by  an  Englishman  studying  the  institutions  of  a 
foreign  country  by  the  means  which  our  French  critic 
adopted. 

My  own  method  is  almost  entirely  the  reverse  of  that 
pursued  by  Taine  and  his  distinguished  disciple.  When 
I  first  settled  in  France  in  1890,  with  a  determination  to 
know  its  people  and  its  institutions,  I  set  to  work  to 
strip  myself  of  all  my  preconceived  ideas  of  that  country, 
whether  acquired  as  a  casual  traveller  in  earlier  years  or 
from  my  previous  reading  of  French  literature  in  many 
branches.  I  resolved  to  lead  the  life  of  the  French 
people,  to  mix  with  all  classes  of  its  society,  to  scale  the 
standpoint  from  which  with  varying  view  they  regarded 
the  human  movement  within  their  frontiers.  Especi- 
ally I  sought  to  familiarise  myself  with  the  settings  of 
the  different  scenes  of  daily  national  life,  so  that  I 
might  retain  in  my  mind's  eye  the  aspect  of  the 
legislative  chambers,  the  village  municipal  council, 
the  presbytery  of  the  parish  priest,  the  salons  of  the 
republican  prefecture  or  of  the  reactionary  chateau,  the 
polling-place  at  a  contested  election.  My  purpose  was 
that  when  I  read  a  newspaper,  a  parliamentary  report,  a 


INTRODUCriON  xxiii 

chapter  of  modern  history,  a  philosophical  essay,  or 
even  a  novel,  I  might  mentally  reconstitute  the  scene, 
seeing  and  hearing  French  men  and  women,  amid 
their  usual  surroundings,  acting  and  speaking  as  they 
were  wont  to  do  in  the  course  of  their  daily  existence. 

I  will  give  a  concrete  example  to  illustrate  my  prac- 
tice. The  writings  of  the  Abbe  Loisy  and  their 
condemnation  by  the  Holy  See  have  attracted  almost 
as  much  attention  in  England  as  in  France.  It  is 
obviously  not  necessary  to  live  in  the  native  land  of 
that  bold  ecclesiastic  in  order  to  comprehend  the 
attitude  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  towards  the 
critical  exegesis  of  the  canon  of  Holy  Scripture.  But 
some  days  which  I  spent  last  autumn  in  a  cathedral 
town  of  Languedoc  made  me  understand  more  clearly 
the  bearings  of  the  controversy  on  the  relations  of  the 
Church  and  people  in  France  than  six  months'  study  in 
a  library  of  all  the  documents  relating  to  it.  In  the 
course  of  a  tour  through  several  southern  departments, 
which  I  made  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  if  provincial 
sentiment  had  been  roused  by  the  religious  crisis  in  the 
country  and  by  the  ecclesiastical  policy  of  the  Govern- 
ment, I  came  to  the  city  of  Albi.  There  in  the 
mediaeval  fortress,  which  is  the  archiepiscopal  palace,  I 
found  the  learned  and  liberal  pastor  of  the  diocese, 
Mgr.  Mifrnot. 

In  the  Archbishop's  library  the  ancient  walls  were 
lined  not  only  with  the  French  and  Latin  books 
which  form  the  usual  literary  armoury  of  the  Galil- 
ean Church,  but  with  every  theological  work  of  note 
produced  in  Great  Britain   by   Anglican  and   Presby- 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

terian  divines  since  the  Oxford  Movement.  There  I 
listened  to  the  wise  words  with  which  the  prudent 
yet  courageous  prelate  summed  up  the  controversy 
aroused  by  the  advanced  theories  of  the  Abbe  Loisy 
and  his  school.  The  hours  which  passed  in  such 
discourse  were  marked  by  the  booming  of  the 
great  bell  of  the  rose-tinted  cathedral  reared  superb 
on  the  banks  of  the  Tarn.  Across  the  river  stretched 
the  undulating  lands  towards  the  quiet  village, 
where  two  generations  ago  Eugenie  de  Guerin  wrote 
the  journal  and  the  letters  which  have  perpetuated 
the  tradition  of  Catholic  piety  as  it  was  practised 
in  the  land  of  the  Revolution,  before  the  railway 
and  the  cheap  press  had  produced  effects  more  dis- 
turbing than  those  of  1789.  In  the  other  direction 
lay  the  modernised  provincial  capital.  In  the  main 
boulevard  stood  the  prefecture,  where  the  agent  of  the 
centralised  Government  issued  his  orders  for  the 
closing  of  a  chapel  or  the  expulsion  of  a  sisterhood,  and 
where  the  next  week  a  Minister  was  to  expound  the 
anti-clerical  policy  of  his  Government,  supported  by 
the  Socialist  deputies  of  the  region.  The  other  side 
of  the  street  was  lined  by  a  row  of  cafes  thronged  with 
chattering  sons  of  the  South,  who,  to  judge  from  their 
clamorous  conversation,  were  as  indifferent  to  the 
politics  of  the  Republic  as  they  were  to  the  perils 
which  beset  the  Church  from  without  and  within. 
Swinging  down  the  middle  of  the  road,  a  regiment  of 
the  line  tramped  in  from  the  manoeuvres,  weary  and 
dusty  but  buoyant  ;  and  the  crowds  which  rushed  to 
salute  the  colours,  when  they  heard  the  strains  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

march  named  after  the  revolutionary  army  of  the 
Sambre  and  Meuse,  denoted  the  only  institution  in  the 
country  capable  of  rousing  the  population  of  France 
from  the  indifference  into  which  it  has  fallen  with 
regard  to  all  public  •  matters  under  the  Third 
Republic. 

To  have  heard  the  controversy  which  is  exercising 
the  Catholic  Church  in  France  expounded  by  the  most 
competent  voice  of  the  Galilean  episcopate  amid  these 
surroundings,  which  tell  of  the  past  history  of  the 
nation,  which  indicate  its  present  condition,  and  which 
foreshadow  to  some  extent  its  future,  did  not  equip  me 
with  any  new  arguments  for  or  against  the  position 
taken  up  by  the  advanced  school  of  French  theologians. 
I  acquired  no  new  knowledge  on  the  historical  truth 
of  the  Book  of  Genesis  or  on  the  doctrinal  value  of 
the  Fourth  Gospel.  But  I  left  Albi  with  a  clearer 
understanding  of  some  of  the  extraneous  causes  which 
have  induced  the  growth  of  liberalism  within  the 
Church  in  France  ;  I  had  new  light  thrown  on  the 
policy  of  the  opponents  of  that  movement  ;  I  saw  at 
work  the  forces  which  are  equally  hostile  to  all  super- 
natural religion,  liberal  or  orthodox.  My  talk  with  the 
inhabitants  of  the  town  and  my  observation  of  their 
doings  enlightened  me  as  to  the  attitude  of  a  French 
population  towards  all  forms  of  belief,  religious,  politi- 
cal, or  patriotic.  I  was  in  a  region  teeming  with 
associations  of  the  past  ;  I  had  before  my  eyes  monu- 
ments and  institutions  which,  in  a  land  of  revolution, 
represented  traditions  handed  down  the  course  of  ages 
during  which  the  French  nation  had  been  formed. 


XX  vi  INTRODUCTION      • 

I  do  not  relate  the  foregoing  as  a  mere  personal 
experience,  which  would  have  only  a  limited  interest, 
but  rather  as  displaying  the  method  followed  by  an 
Englishman  desirous  of  fathoming  the  depths  of 
national  existence  in  a  country  not  his  own,  in  contrast 
to  the  system  which  a  Frenchman  would  pursue  under 
analogous  circumstances.  A  little  boy  to  whom  I  am 
related,  whose  travels  abroad  have  been  more  extensive 
than  those  of  most  children  of  his  age,  was  asked, 
during  a  visit  to  England,  by  a  patronising  elder,  what 
books  he  used  for  his  lessons  in  geography.  *'  I  use 
no  books,"  he  replied  proudly  ;  "  I  go  to  the  places." 
The  boy  by  his  answer  showed  himself,  in  spite  of  his 
birth  and  residence  abroad,  an  Englishman,  by  inborn 
instinct  opposed  to  the  methods  of  the  French  among 
whom  he  had  passed  his  childhood.  I  do  not  follow 
him  to  the  extent  of  using  no  books.  Of  late  years  I 
have  spent  days  and  hours  in  a  library  sufficient  to 
justify  the  name  which  I  bear.  But  my  reading  is 
complementary  to  my  personal  observation,  rather  than 
a  preparation  for  it.  The  reason  why  Macaulay  com- 
pelled the  admiration  not  only  of  his  countrymen  but 
of  foreign  critics  and  historians,  such  as  Taine,  whose 
methods  had  nothing  in  common  with  his,  was  that  he, 
the  greatest  repository  of  book-learning  of  his  age,  did 
not  rely  upon  his  stores  of  erudition  alone  for  exer- 
cising his  faculty  of  reviving  historic  scenes.  His 
most  durable  pages  of  history  were  those  which  he 
wrote  after  studies  made  on  the  spots  where  the  incidents 
he  portrayed  were  enacted.  Macaulay,  spending  weeks 
in  remote  Somersetshire  villages  in  order  to  reconsti- 


^    INTRODUCTION  xxvii 

tiite  the  scene  of  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor,  was  a  model 
for  all  English  historians  in  the  manner  in  which  they 
most  signally  excel.  The  rise  of  a  more  scientific 
school  of  historical  writing  has  put  Macaulay  out  of 
fashion  in  his  own  country  ;  but  not  one  of  our  more 
recent  historians  has  attained  a  position  higher  than 
that  which  he  still  maintains  in  foreign  critical  opinion 
as  a  characteristic  product  of  British  genius. 

The  books  which  Englishmen  write  about  France 
and  which  Frenchmen  write  about  England  continue 
to  the  present  day  the  traditional  methods  of  their 
respective  nations.  During  the  last  fourteen  years  I 
have  had  sent  to  me,  with  few  exceptions,  all  the  works 
published  in  England  and  in  France  which  come  under 
these  two  categories.  The  former  have  been  the  more 
numerous  ;  the  latter  have  been  the  more  interesting. 
Out  of  the  many  books  which  English  writers  have 
published  upon  French  subjects  in  that  period,  the  few 
pages  which  I  have  discovered  of  suggestive  value,  to 
one  already  familiar  to  the  country  and  its  people, 
were  all  written  by  persons  who  had  dwelt  for  a  con- 
siderable time  in  France.  The  French  books  written 
about  England  were,  with  one  exception,  the  work  of 
authors  tvhose  personal  experience  of  our  country  was 
brief,  and  whose  methods  were  similar  to  those  followed 
by  M.  Boutmy.  The  monographs  thus  produced 
were  less  profound  than  his  treatises  on  England  ;  the 
conclusions  found  in  them,  some  of  an  amazing  nature, 
displayed  the  danger  into  which  the  French  faculty  for 
generalisation  leads  a  writer.  But  on  the  whole  the 
French  work  was  valuable   in   revealing  certain  phases 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION 

of  our  national  character  which,  though  not  patent  to 
ourselves,  immediately  strike  the  view  of  a  foreigner 
whose  powers  of  observation  have  been  prepared  by  a 
study  of  our  contemporary  literature  and  of  our 
periodical  press.  If  with  this  preparation  French 
writers  of  minor  rank  can  produce  meritorious  work 
after  a  superficial  glance  at  England  and  its  institu- 
tions, it  becomes  less  surprising  to  find  that  physical 
infirmity,  which  would  have  been  an  insurmountable 
obstacle  to  an  Englishman  essaying  a  similar  task,  has 
not  hindered  an  author  of  the  intellect  and  experience 
of  M.  Boutmy  from  accomplishing  a  searching  analysis 
of  the  elements  composing  the  British  nation. 

While  EngUshmen  chiefly  excel  in  describing  and 
analysing  what  they  have  seen  and  studied  with  their 
eyes,  it  must  be  confessed  that,  with  increased  facilities 
for  travel,  only  a  very  minute  proportion  of  those  who 
go  abroad  take  the  trouble  to  learn  anything  at  all  about 
the  foreign  countries  which  they  visit.  As  we  are  here 
deaUng  only  with  England  and  with  France,  it  will 
suffice  to  compare  the  habits  of  the  travellers  of  the 
two  nations  who  visit  one  another's  shores.  The 
number  of  educated  Frenchmen  who  come  to  England 
for  purposes  other  than  those  of  commerce  is,  in  spite 
of  the  easiness  of  the  journey,  extremely  small  ;  but  of 
that  small  number  a  considerable  proportion  observe 
with  intelligence  the  working  of  our  institutions  or  the 
political  and  social  questions  at  issue.  The  number  of 
educated  Englishmen  who  go  to  France  for  their  own 
pleasure  amounts  to  tens  of  thousands  every  year,  and 
not  one  in  five  hundred  takes  the  opportunity  of  his 


INTRODUCTION      '  xxix 

sojourn  in  a  foreign  land  to  gain  any  acquaintance  with 
its  people  and  their  institutions.  It  was  not  always  so. 
The  English  traveller  of  the  days  when  travel  was 
difficult  and  expensive  was  as  assiduous  in  his  observa- 
tions of  the  people  among  whom  he  moved  as  was  the 
French  explorer  of  England.  In  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, as  in  the  twentieth,  the  citizens  of  each  nation 
maintained  their  respective  methods  of  study.  Montes- 
quieu and  Voltaire  regarded  England  through  the  eyes 
of  philosophers  ;  Arthur  Yourtg  explored  France  as  a 
practical  Englishman,  noting  every  phenomenon  which 
met  his  view,  though  disdainful  of  the  abstract  doc- 
trines which  were  then  broadcast  in  that  country. 
The  journals  of  the  Suffolk  agriculturist,  though  the 
best  of  their  kind,  were  only,  in  an  extended  form, 
what  every  English  traveller  brought  back  from  his 
foreign  tour,  and  the  practice  continued  for  another 
half  century.  Mr.  Gladstone,  in  the  last  words  which 
he  ever  published,  described  the  superior  advantages  of 
travel  abroad  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  when  every 
stage  of  the  journey  was  an  education  in  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  land  through  which  the  post-chaise 
was  passing. 

No  doubt  the  rapidity  of  transit,  which  permits  a 
tourist  to  travel  five  hundred  miles  away  from  England 
on  the  day  of  his  departure  from  his  native  land, 
tends  to  destroy  many  of  the  distinctive  impressions 
formerly  associated  with  a  journey  abroad.  An 
Englishman  who  travels  with  a  trainload  of  English 
and  American  people  to  the  extremity  of  France, 
there    to    find    a     cosmopolitan    hotel,     inhabited    by 


XXX  "         INTRODUCTION 

English-speaking  idlers  or  health-seekers,  and  flanked 
on  one  side  by  a  British  club   and  on  the  other  by  an 
Anglican  chapel,   may  perhaps    have  some  excuse  for 
not  realising  that  he  is  visiting    a    foreign   land.     At 
the  same  time  the  determination  with  which   English 
people    abroad    refuse   to  know  anything   of  the   lan- 
guage,  the  traditions,   the    institutions,   and   the   con- 
temporary history  of  the   most  accessible  countries  of 
the  Continent  which  they  visit,  is  worthy    of  a   better 
purpose.     For  some  years  I  have  lived  not  far  from  a 
resort  much  frequented  by  them  during  several  months 
of  the  year.     The  official    registers   of  the  commune 
show  that  no  less  than  four  thousand   British  subjects 
are  annually  lodged  within  its  gates.     As  my  purpose 
for  residing   in    France    is    not    that   of  studying   the 
habits    of   my    compatriots,    it    is    from    a    respectful 
distance  that   I   observe  the    ways    of    these  itinerant 
British  legions,  which  with  open   purse  annex   certain 
corners      of     the     Continent,     and    show      by     their 
masterful   gait  how  the  Anglo-Saxon  race    has  gained 
the  primacy  of  the  world,  and  how  it  has  not  inspired 
the  love  of  mankind   in   its    path  of  conquest.     One 
little   investigation  I   have  permitted  myself  to  make 
with  regard  to  the  lack  of  effort  of  these  good  people 
to  acquaint   themselves  with  what  is  going   on  in  the 
land    of  their    temporary   possession.     It    so    happens 
that  in  this  particular  region  circulate  two  of  the  best- 
informed   provincial   journals    in    France.      From'  in- 
quiries  which  I    have    made,   from    newsvendors   and 
others,  I  gather  that   not  forty  of  the  four    thousand 
British  tourists  and  residents  take  in  a  French   journal, 


INTRODUCTION  xxxi 

although  by  so  doing  they  could  get  their  news  from 
all  quarters  of  the  world  thirty  hours  sooner  than 
they  obtain  it  from  the  English  papers  which  they 
receive  from  London,  to  say  nothing  of  the  national 
and  local  information  which  they  would  incidentally 
acquire. 

Perhaps  it  would  be  too  much  to  expect  the  modern 
Briton,  visiting  the  Continent  in  search  of  health  or  of 
sunshine,  to  remember  that  in  the  countries  of  their 
sojourn  there  are  populations  whose  daily  life,  in  all 
classes,  present  features  of  high  interest  to  all  students 
of  the  human  race.  Perhaps  they  have  some  excuse 
for  believing  that  the  only  institutions  of  importance 
in  these  lands  are  the  golf-links,  the  bridge-table,  and 
the  tea-party,  imported  from  England,  together  with  the 
casino  as  representing  the  iiational  genius  of  the  soil  ; 
for  in  France,  at  all  events,  the  unoccupied  upper  class 
— which  is  the  most  conspicuous  French  element  at  the 
winter  and  summer  resorts  of  fashion  in^hat  country 
— forgetful  of  its  ancient  civilisation,  proclaims  its 
decadence  by  its  efforts  to  adopt  English  diversions 
as  the  gravest  pursuit  of  life.  Yet  English  people, 
who  are  not  casual  pleasure-seekers,  but  are  settled  in 
foreign  lands  for  serious  purposes  sometimes,  are  as 
insensible  to  the  local  and  national  interest  of  what  is 
going  on  around  them  as  are  the  holiday-makers  and 
amateurs  of  climate  in  a  watering-place.  An  eminent 
authority  on  education  in  England  once  asked  me  to 
give  him  some  aid  in  a  tour  he  was  undertaking,  in 
order  to  make  a  report  to  the  Education  Office  upon  a 
certain  category  of  schools  in   provincial  France.      He 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION 

informed  me  that  a  bishop  had  given  him  for  this  purpose 
letters  of  introduction  to  the  chaplains  of  the  Anglican 
churches  in  France.  I  took  the  liberty  of  telling  him 
that  for  a  person  engaged  in  an  inquest  upon  French 
education,  letters  of  introduction  to  the  English 
chaplains  in  France  would  not  be  more  serviceable  than 
to  a  Frenchman  arriving  in  London,  to  inquire  into 
our  parliamentary  system,  would  be  similar  letters  of 
recommendation  to  the  French  milliners  of  Bond  Street. 
My  remark  erred  if  anything  on  the  side  of  under- 
statement, as  it  is  possible  that  a  French  milliner  in 
London  might  be  acquainted,  in  some  capacity,  with 
a  member  of  Parliament.  But  I  doubt  If  an  Anglican 
chaplain  in  France  ever  occupied  his  extended  leisure  in 
cultivating  relations  with  a  French  schoolmaster. 

Even  the  men  and  women  of  our  nation  who  go  to 
France  for  the  express  purpose  of  seeing  something  of 
French  life,  and  of  displaying  the  cordiality  of  their 
sentiments  for  the  French  people,  take  ^with  them,  on 
their  missionary  tour  of  international  comity,  their 
British  habits,  which  they  never  lay  aside  in  any  country 
or  in  any  clime.  A  number  of  English  legislators, 
accompanied  by  wives  and  daughters,  made  a  journey 
through  France  last  autumn,  in  response  to  an  invita- 
tion from  certain  FVench  senators  and  deputies  who 
had  been  entertained  in  London  earlier  in  the  year. 
In  a  tournament  of  mutual  hospitality  the  French 
were  resolved  to  be  the  victors.  Not  content  with 
banqueting  their  guests  in  Paris,  they  conveyed  them 
all  around  France  to  every  important  centre  of  in- 
dustry.    In  the  course  of  the   tour   the   parliamentary 


INTRODUCTION  xxxiii 

caravan  arrived  at  Bordeaux,  where  an  ancient  tradition 
of  amity  with  England  is  based  on  the  genial  taste  of 
our  forefathers  for  the  generous  wines  of  the  Gironde. 
The  historic  Chateau  Laffitte  opened  its  gates  to  the 
visitors.  From  the  sacred  recesses  of  its  cellars  were 
brought  forth  precious  vintages  not  offered  to  mortal 
palates  twice  in  a  generation.  But  the  British  guests, 
unmindful  of  the  unique  privilege,  demanded  whiskey. 
Saddened  though  the  Medoc  was  at  the  slight  offered 
to  its  priceless  products,  the  hospitable  inhabitants  took 
no  umbrage  at  the  inappreciative  thirstiness.  A  leading 
journal  of  Bordeaux  went  so  far  as  to  blame  the 
organisers  of  the  feast.  The  first  law  of  hospitality,  it 
said,  is  to  study  the*  tastes  of  a  guest,  and  the  entertainers 
ought  to  have  known  that  no  midday  meal  in  England 
is  complete  without  its  proper  complement  of  "whiskey, 
tea,  and  porter."  Far  from  the  incident  marring 
the  success  of  the  pacific  expedition,  the  general  com- 
ment seemed  to  be  that  thus  to  cling  to  native  habits 
amid  strange  surroundings,  and  under  circumstances  of 
peculiar  temptation,  was  the  mark  of  a  mighty  nation, 
whose  sons  and  daughters  had  changed  the  face  of  the 
globe  by  ever  refusing  to  assimilate  with  other  peoples 
on  whom  they  imposed  their  language,  their  manners, 
and  even  their  social  usages. 

Although  the  majority  of  English  men  and  women 
pass  through  the  countries  of  the  world  without  taking 
much  notice  of  what  is  going  on  within  their  frontiers, 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  we  do  take  a  literary  interest 
in  foreign  lands.  While  this  volume  deals  with 
British  institutions  in  their  relation  with   British  cha- 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTION 

racter  and  British  life,  every  page  shows  it  to  be  the 
work  of  an  alien  hand.  The  unexpected  appreciations 
and  criticisms  which  it  contains  not  only  call  attention 
to  features  of  our  national  existence  which  in  many 
cases  will  have  escaped  our  own  attention,  they  also 
indicate  the  standpoint  from  which  a  Frenchman 
regards  social  and  political  phenomena.  Hence,  the 
perusal  of  this  book,  which  is  primarily  a  psychological 
analysis  of  the  British  people,  may  lead  its  English 
readers  to  an  understanding  of  certain  points  of  French 
character  which  will  never  have  struck  them  during 
their  passage  over  French  territory. 

J.  E.  C.  BODLEY. 
February  i,  1904. 


Contents 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  .....  v 

PART    I 

THE    NATIONAL    TYPE 

CHAPTER 

I.  PHYSICAL    ENVIRONMENT     .  .  .  .3 

II.  THE    IDEAL    IN    ITSELF  .  ,  .  21 
III.        THE    IDEAL    IN    ITS    APPLICATIONS  .                  .                  •       3^ 

PART      II 

THE   HUMAN   ENHRONMENT 

I.         THE    ALIEN    RACES         .  .  .  ■  .  57 

II.         THE    INDIGENOUS    RACES      .  .  .  '74 

PART    III 
THE   ENGLISHMAN:   MORAL    AND    SOCIAL 

I.  THE    englishman:    ISOLATED    AND    SUBJECTIVE  IO5 

35 


xxxvi  CONTENTS 

PART    IV 

THE   ENGLISHMAN  JS    POLITICIAN 

CHAPTER  FAGK 

I.  THE    CITIZEN  .....  12$ 

II.  THE    PARTY    MAN  ....  I4I 

III.  THE    STATESMAN     .....  I52 

IV.  THE    LAW    AND    PUBLIC    OPINION              .                  .  163 
V.  ROYALTY   ......  180 

PART    V 

THE   INDIVIDUAL    AND    THE    STATE 

I.  THE     INDIVIDUAL     AND      HIS      FUNCTION      IN     THE 

STATE  .  .  .  .  .  197 

II.  THE    STATE    AND    ITS    FUNCTION    AT    HOME  .    266 

III.  THE    STATE    AND    ITS    FUNCTION    ABROAD  .  288 


PART   I 

THE  NATIONAL  TTPE 


The  English   People 


CHAPTER   I 


PHYSICAL    ENVIRONMENT 


I,— The   Will. 


Among  the  influences  which  mould  a  nation  natural  pheno- 
mena have  most  weight  and  efficacy  ;  such  phenomena,  for 
•nstance,  as  the  shape  of  the  country,  the  relative  positions  of 
mountains  and  rivers,  of  land  and  sea,  the  mildness  or  severity 
of  the  climate,  and  the  abundance  or  scarcity  of  the  fruits  of 
the  earth.  These  influences  are  as  old  as  mankind  ;  going 
back  over  the  centuries  we  can  find  no  period  when  they  were 
non-existent.  They  have  not  varied  to  any  extent,  and  if  a 
change  has  taken  place,  it  is  in  man  himself,  subject  as  he  now 
is  to  an  infinity  of  other  impressions.  In  the  beginning  they 
were  almost  the  sole  forces  acting  upon  a  newly  created  and 
sensitive  being,  and  thus  produced  effects  which  to-day  we 
deem  improbable.  These  influences  are  what  Taine,  in  his 
notable  theory  of  1863,  calls  the  "milieu."  But  the  race 
which  he  separates  from  them  ought  to  be  restored  to  them  ; 
it  is  but  the  prehistoric  product  of  these  natural  phenomena, 
operating  at  a  time  when  the  first  ideas  and  sentiments  of 
humanity  were  still  shifting,  and  not  consolidated  into  any 
monument  worthy  of  commemoration.     Such  monuments — 


4  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

customs,  laws  engraved  on  stone,  religious  rites,  epic  poems, 
&c. — were,  even  in  the  beginning,  the  products  of  physical 
environment,  and  it  was  in  the  course  of  time  only  that, 
having  acquired  consistency  and  individual  entity,  they  them- 
selves became  capable  of  engendering  impressions  and  modify- 
ing the  effects  of  the  great  natural  influences.  But  the  great 
natural  influences  continue  to  exist,  and  enclose  on  every  side 
that  human  society  which  they  initiated.  Even  now,  by 
the  force  of  their  number  and  unchangeable  nature,  they 
perpetuate  and  re-create,  after  a  momentary  effacement,  the 
deeply-scored  characters  and  hereditary  marks  which  they 
stamped  upon  the  first  generations  in  their  beginnings. 

England  is  a  northern  country  ;  but,  among  the  northern 
countries,  she  occupies  a  place  apart.  Her  most  distinctive 
feature  is  her  climate,  which  does  not  vary  to  any  great  extent, 
the  United  Kingdom  enjoying  the  almost  unvarying  tempera- 
ture which  characterises  maritime  countries.  In  climate 
England,  more  than  Scotland  or  Ireland,  resembles  the  Con- 
tinent, yet  twenty-eight  of  her  counties  out  of  the  fifty-two 
are  washed  by  the  sea.  Scotland  and  Ireland  have  a  still 
larger  proportion.  The  northern  isothermal  lines  rise  without 
interruption  as  they  approach  the  British  Isles.  As  the  curve 
nears  New  York  and  Newfoundland  it  ascends,  passing  by 
Ireland,  towards  Norway,  leaving  the  whole  of  the  United 
Kingdom  untouched.  The  temperature  at  fifty-two  degrees 
of  latitude  is  similar  to  that  at  thirty-two  degrees  of  latitude 
in  the  United  States,  a  difference  of  nine  hundred  and 
fifty-six  miles.  What  is  particularly  remarkable  is  the 
temperature  in  winter  of  the  whole  of  Ireland  and 
Scotland  and  the  West  of  England.  The  isothermal 
lines,  instead  of  being  parallel  to  the  equator,  are  parallel  to 
the  meridian.  A  mean  temperature  of  four  degrees  extends 
from  Bristol  to  Thurso  and  the  Orkneys.  Over  an  area  of 
five  hundred  and  fifty-nine  miles,  from  south  to  north,  the 
climate  in  winter  is  invariable.     The  inhabitants  of  the  British 


PHYSICAL  ENVIRONMENT  5 

Isles  can  travel  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other 
without  experiencing  any  change  of  temperature  ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  climate  of  England  largely  justifies  the 
saying  of  Charles  II.,  that  "  it  invited  men  abroad  more 
days  in  the  year  and  more  hours  in  the  day  than  another 
country." 

The  second  peculiarity  which  distinguishes  England  from 
most  of  the  northern  countries  is  the  indentation  of  her  coast- 
line and  the  fertility  of  her  soil.  Quite  different,  for  instance, 
is  Northern  Prussia,  with  its  long  sandy  deserts  terminated 
only  by  the  Baltic,  and  still  more  dissimilar  are  the  cold  wastes 
of  Central  Russia.  M.  A.  Leroy-Beaulieu  is  of  opinion 
that  the  extreme  severity  of  the  climate  in  the  Muscovite 
plains,  and  the  great  variation  between  the  maximum  and 
minimum  temperatures,  enervate  and  depress  man  instead  of 
stimulating  him.  He  has  pointed  out,  moreover,  that  all 
spirit  of  enterprise  is  discouraged  by  the  arid  and  barren  soil 
of  that  vast  empire,  wjth  its  infrequent  and  scanty  patches  of 
cultivation,  and  the  impossibility  of  conveying  overland  from 
any  distance  such  things  as  are  necessary  for  life  and  progress. 
The  Russians  have,  therefore,  no  temptation  to  expend  their 
energies  in  extensive  enterprises  ;  the  resulting  profit  is  too 
uncertain.  They  prefer  to  devote  their  time  to  the  ethical 
labour  of  inuring  themselves  to  resignation,  renunciation  and 
patience.  One  of  the  most  popular  diversions  in  Russian 
villages  is  a  kind  of  boxing  match,  in  which  the  victor  is  not 
he  who  deals  the  largest  number  of  blows,  but  he  who  uncom- 
plainingly receives  them.  No  less  an  effort  of  will  is  required 
to  reduce  the  spirit  to  this  state  of  passive  stoicism  than  to 
work  off  its  superfluous  energy  in  violent  action. 

The  condition  of  the  Englishman  is  directly  opposed  to 
that  of  the  Russian.  Nature  speaks  to  him  somewhat  after 
this  fashion  :  "  If  you  relax  your  efforts  destruction  will 
overtake  you,  but  if  you  take  pains  your  reward  will  be  a 
thousandfold."     This   certainly    is  a    most    serious    dilemma. 


6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

The  atmosphere  is  charged  with  moisture  to  a  degree  which,  at 
times,  renders  respiration  difficult,  and  the  enfeebled  body  can 
only  maintain  its  normal  temperature  by  a  large  amount  of 
exercise  ;  but,  for  this  very  reason,  England  abounds  in  big, 
vigorous  men,  and  she  can  bring  forward  perhaps  more  old 
men  than  the  most  highly  favoured  of  the  Continental 
countries.  The  soil,  moistened  by  fogs  and  drowned  in 
showers,  requires  incessant  drainage  and  clearing  to  prevent  its 
reconquest  by  the  marsh  and  forest  ;  but  the  labour  involved 
in  reclaiming  and  rendering  it  fertile  is  crowned  with 
admirable  results.  An  abundant  and  chiefly  animal  food  is 
indispensable  to  the  natives,  but  there  is  much  rich  pasture- 
land  for  the  breeding  of  flocks  ;  and  the  sea,  which  abounds 
in  fish,  finds  its  way  into  innumerable  inlets  completely  around 
the  territory  of  Great  Britain.  The  constant  presence  of 
moisture  in  the  atmosphere,  the  feebleness  of  the  sun,  whose 
rays  are  softened  by  the  mist,  and  the  gloom  which  sometimes 
overcasts  the  day,  make  the  tasks  of  clothing,  housing, 
warming  and  lighting  himself  peculiarly  laborious  to  the 
Englishman.  He  requires  an  impervious  material  for  his 
clothes  and  thick  walls  for  his  house.  A  large  portion  of  his 
time  must  be  spent  in  weaving,  distilling,  and  extracting  coal 
or  peat  from  the  earth.  How  different  from  the  man  of  the 
South,  who  needs  but  one  square  of  linen  to  cover  his 
nakedness,  and  another  to  shelter  him  from  the  sun.  If  the 
Englishman  does  not  find  all  that  is  necessary  for  his  comfort 
in  his  own  country,  the  prodigious  mineral  riches  that  He 
beneath  the  soil  furnish  him  with  ample  means  of  exchange, 
and,  transport  by  sea  being  easy  and  particularly  cheap,  he  is 
able  to  obtain  what  he  requires  in  large  quantities.  In  short, 
an  almost  unlimited  production,  and  exceptional  facilities  for 
export  and  import,  whereby  are  supplied  the  necessaries  of  a 
more  active  and  less  circumscribed  existence  than  is  elsewhere 
to  be  found — these  are  the  economic  conditions  of  life  in  the 
United   Kingdom.     This  brings   us  back  to  the  promise  and' 


PHYSICAL   ENVIRONMENT  7 

menace  addressed  by  Nature  to  the  inhabitants  :  the  promise 
of  a  rich  harvest  if  they  persevere  in  their  efforts,  the  menace 
of  an  inevitable  decay  if  they  relax  these  efforts.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  conceive  a  more  imperious  ultimatum,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  more  seductive  invitation,  addressed  to  the  human  vi^iil. 
It  is  evident  that  for  the  English  people  Nature  has  been 
a  school  of  initiation  in  activity,  foresight  and  self-control, 
and,  as  always  happens,  these  virtues  have  eventually  become 
independent  of  the  reasons  for  self-preservation  and  well-being 
which  gave  them  rise.  By  a  process  easy  of  comprehension 
they  have  gradually  acquired  an  individual  value  and  character. 
To  begin  with,  it  was  to  the  advantage  of  the  community  that 
the  individual  should  practise  them,  and  an  instinctive  mutual 
conspiracy  was  formed  to  render  them  indispensable,  and  to 
rank  them  high  among  the  moral  ideals  of  the  race.  In  the 
second  place,  the  struggle  for  existence,  unusually  violent  in 
England,  tended  to  eliminate,  by  a  sort  of  natural  selection, 
those  who  were  not  endowed  with  the  essential  virtues — viz., 
the  infirm,  the  feeble,  the  timid  and  the  idle.  The  strong, 
the  prudent,  and  the  industrious  alone  remained  to  perpetuate- 
the  race  and  to  transmit  their  qualities  to  posterity.  This  is 
the  reason  why  the  desire  for  action,  vigorous,  untiring, 
effective  action  has  acquired  the  tenacity  of  an  hereditary 
instinct,  the  compass  of  a  national  characteristic,  the  position 
and  authority  of  the  most  imperative  of  moral  obligations.  It 
is  often  said  that  the  English  nation  is,  above  all  things,  utili- 
tarian. This  is  true  in  the  letter,  though  not  in  the  spirit,  if 
it  means  that  the  primary  motives  actuating  the  race  are 
necessity  and  self-interest,  all  other  motives  being  secondary  ; 
this  is  the  case  with  every  form  of  moral  obligation,  historically 
it  originates  in  a  question  of  utility.  On  the  other  hand  it  is 
inexact,  if  it  means  that  such  considerations  are  still  the 
mainsprings  of  action,  the  guiding  principles  of  every 
Englishman's  life.  A  motive  power  of  a  totally  different 
character  is  noyv  first  and  foremost ;  author  and  "generator  of 


8  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

every  action,  source  of  every  impulsion — viz.,  the  spontaneous 
desire,  the  gratuitous  passion  of  effort  for  the  sake  of  effort. 
The  most  cursory  glance  will  suffice  to  confirm  this 
conclxision. 

The  prevailing  tendency  in  the  vi^hole  political  life  of  the 
English  nation,  from  which  every  suggestion  or  original  action 
emanates,  is  the  desire  to  exert  strength,  to  give  vent  to 
energy,  heedless  of  result.  An  unforewarned  observer, 
travelling  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  will  at 
every  step  encounter  illustrations  of  this  desire  for  physical 
activity  ;  it  is  like  a  curious  disquiet  in  the  muscles  of  the 
people.  Bicycles  are  to  be  met  on  every  road  in  England  ; 
cycling  is  so  general  that,  as  one  Englishman  said,  it  would  be 
less  trouble  to  name  those  who  do  not  practise  it  than  those 
who  do.  At  Oxford,  the  cricket  matches  and  boat  races, 
which  are  a  far  greater  stimulant  to  the  student  than  the 
ambition  to  obtain  honours,  are  watched  by  large  crowds. 
The  traveller  may  have  the  good  fortune  to  witness  a  ladies' 
archery  meeting  on  the  banks  of  the  Isis,  and  for  a  whole 
morning  watch  a  hundred  of  them  shooting,  with  perfect 
gravity,  at  targets  placed  in  front  of  them,  crossing  the  field 
at  intervals  to  pick  up  their  arrows,  and  retracing  their  steps 
to  take  aim  again  without  any  sign  of  fatigue  or  ennui. 
In  Northumberland,  the  working  man  devotes  himself  to 
quoits  whenever  he  has  a  moment  to  spare,  and  becomes  very 
expert  at  the  game.  In  Lancashire,  boxing  has  the  preference 
of  the  majority.  The  story  goes  that  an  American  boxer 
crossed  the  sea  to  measure  his  strength  with  an  Englishman, 
and  a  certain  Saycrs,  accepting  the  challenge,  came  off  vic- 
torious. The  victor,  as  a  national  hero,  was  summoned  to 
Liverpool,  and  there  received  by  an  immense  crowd,  who  went 
to  meet  him  playing  on  musical  instruments.  A  similar 
occurrence  took  place  in  Florence  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
The  people  came  out  of  the  towji  in  a  body,  and  journeyed 
to  a  little  village,  which  thereafter  took  the  name  of  Borgho- 


PHYSICAL  ENVIRONMENT  9 

Allegri  ;  but  their  pilgrimage  was  in  honour  of  a  masterpiece 
of  contemporary  Art,  a  Virgin  by  Cimabue.  In  short,  our 
chronicler  would  return  from  his  tour  in  England  with  the 
impression  that  sport  in  that  country  is  more  than  a  diversion  ; 
it  is  the  satisfaction  of  a  physical  need  as  imperative  as  hunger 
or  thirst.  The  Englishman  throws  himself  with  the  same 
zest  and  eagerness  into  work.  Who  does  not  remember 
.  having  encountered  in  the  streets  of  London  the  individual, 
hastening  along  with  rapid  and  even  step,  who,  as  Hamilton 
would  say,  has  every  appearance  of  being  in  search  of  the 
accoucheur  ?  He  goes  straight  on  his  way,  absorbed  in  his 
object,  and  heedless  of  any  distraction.  He  is  the  real  business 
man,  whom  we  call  riiomme  /V affaires ;  and  notice  the  volume 
of  meaning  conveyed  by  the  word  "  business "  as  compared 
with  our  word  "  affaires  " — the  idea  and  conception  of  an 
urgent  task  which  occupies  the  entire  attention  of  the  worker. 
The  word  "  busy "  signifies  actively  employed,  or  much 
occupied.  Let  us  follow  the  man  we  have  encountered  and 
penetrate  into  his  office.  He  begins  his  work  immediately, 
giving  it  his  whole  attention ;  he  does  not  raise  his  head,  as  a 
Frenchman  would,  to  watch  a  fly,  or  to  follow  out  a  thought 
which  distracts  him  for  the  moment  from  what  he  has  in  hand. 
There  is  not  the  slightest  interruption  in  his  assiduity,  nor 
relaxing  of  his  application  to  the  task  he  has  determined  to 
accomplish.  One  of  the  generally  accepted  arguments  in 
favour  of  the  high  wages  received  by  the  English  working 
man  is,  that  he  is  an  admirable  working  machine ;  he  brings  to 
his  work  not  only  a  far  greater  amount  of  energy,  but  also  a 
far  greater  capability  than,  for  instance,  an  Irishman  or  a 
German.  It  is  because  the  moments  of  his  activity  are  much 
closer  together,  i.e.^  there  are  no  vacant  intervals,  no  half 
seconds  occupied  by  a  sort  of  stoppage  while  the  thoughts 
wander.  This  is  the  true  basis  of  the  Englishman's  character, 
so  far  as  my  observation  has  gone  when  visiting  London  on 
more  than  one  occasion. 


lo  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

This  peculiar  temperament  is  to  be  found  in  every  class,  and 
even  among  those  who  seem  most  unlikely  to  fulfil  any  expec- 
tation of  vigorous  activity.  Our  young  girls  in  France  would 
consider  it  inconsistent  with  their  rank,  and  with  the  reserve 
becoming  to  their  sex^  if  they  sought  for  masculine  or  arduous 
occupation  outside  their  own  homes.  In  England  they  are 
daunted  neither  by  the  difficulty  of  establishing  and  organising 
a  charity  mission,  nor  by  the  amount  of  time  and  perseverance 
inevitable  in  a  work  of  social  relief  entailing  incessant  inquiry, 
nor  by  the  repugnant  duties  which  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  nurse  in 
a  hospital.  It  is  their  means  of  escape  from  the  ennui  of  an 
aimless  life.  There  are  nearly  fifty  thousand  women  in 
England  who  have  responded  to  the  appeal  of  the  Liberal 
party  and  have  become  members  of  various  associations. 
They  have  set  themselves  up  in  opposition  to  the  dames  of  the 
Primrose  League,  who  led  the  way  witli  this  kind  of  society. 
They  never  seem  to  dread  the  ridicule  which,  in  France,  would 
too  certainly  attend  such  demonstrations.  In  the  same  way, 
the  excessive  piety,  which,  in  France,  disarms  the  penitent 
and  casts  him  naked  at  the  feet  of  his  God,  rapt  m  the  silence 
of  contemplation  and  prayer,  arms  the  English  missionaries  tor 
their  difficult  struggle.  With  us  this  piety  is  accompanied 
with  intense  fervour,  visions  of  another  world,  and,  in  this 
one,  a  sort  of  quietism  which  alters  the  moral  principles  of 
existence.  With  our  neighbours  it  is  accompanied  with  joy, 
rapture,  an  incessant  activity  of  body  and  soul  which  enables 
them  to  face  solitude  with  cheerfulness,  and  a  breadth  of 
doctrine  which  allows  them  to  take  part  in  political  schemes  of 
a  purely  mundane  nature.  It  is  remarkable  that  England  can 
scarcely  furnish  a  single  example  of  a  community  devoted  to 
prayer,  seclusion,  and  communion  alone  with  God,  and  always 
brings  in,  as  it  were,  a  third  party,  a  leaven  of  the  world, 
an  element  of  everyday  life,  which  she  sets  to  work  to 
transform. 

In    short,    activity    is   more    concentrated    and    continuous 


PHYSICAL  ENVIRONMENT  ii 

in  Eneland  than  elsewhere,  because  there  is  a  reluctance 
to  interrupt  it,  as  we  do,  with  moments  of  relaxation  ;  it 
is  more  general,  because  it  includes  even  that  class  of  persons 
which,  in  France,  always  abstain  from  it.  The  inclination 
for,  and  habit  of  effort  must  be  considered  as  an  essential 
attribute,  an  inherent  and  spontaneous  quality  of  the  race  ; 
present  with  the  Englishmen  wherever  he  goes,  a  secret 
reason  for  his  resolutions,  the  key  to  many  of  his  actions, 
fulfilling  in  every  circumstance  the  duties  of  an  omni-present, 
unrelaxing  motive  power,  as  often  to  be  found  as  the 
English  themselves  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe. 

The  causes  which  produced  the  need  of  activity  in  this 
particular  section  of  the  human  race  have  lost  much  of  their 
virtue.  The  accumulation  of  intellectual  and  material 
wealth  has  augmented  the  number  of  the  very  rich,  and 
gradually  weakened,  in  a  section  of  the  nation,  the  hereditary 
instinct  which  makes  man  recognise  and  accept  the  laws  of 
labour.  Further,  under  these  new  conditions  the  idle  and 
the  weak  have  more  chance  of  existence,  of  perpetuating 
themselves,  and  constituting  a  permanent  ethnical  element ;  for, 
to  begin  with,  the  State  and  the  local  authorities  offered  them 
daily  increasing  advantages  under  the  form  of  gratuitous 
public  services ;  and  afterwards,  those  more  favoured  by 
fortune  bestowed  on  them  some  of  their  superfluity.  The 
observer  should  note  this  evolution  and  its  probable  effects, 
but  he  must  not  underrate  the  greater  import  of  those  early 
instincts  which  became  formed  under  the  operation  of  first 
causes. 

2. — Sensation  and  Perception. 

The  conditions  or  external  perception  are  neither  less 
characteristic  nor  of  less  consequence. 

The  climate  in  England  has  a  considerable  influence  on 
the  sensibilities  of  the  inhabitants,  and  their  capacity  for 
experiencing   sensations.      In   countries    where    a    dry    atmo- 


12  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

sphere,  charged  with  electricity,  expands  the  skin  and 
contracts  the  tissues,  impressions  are  received  far  more 
rapidly.  The  response  they  provoke  is  almost  instantaneous. 
The  solemn  gravity  of  the  Arab  chief  conceals  a  hidden  fire, 
which  flashes  out  in  rapid  decisive  movement  and  violent, 
passionate  action.  The  vivacity  of  the  southern  Frenchman 
betrays  an  acute  sensibility,  conscious  of  the  lightest  touch, 
springing  up  or  recoiling  at  a  word.  The  sensibilities  of  the 
English  are  less  acute  and  less  prompt  to  respond.  In  these 
big,  whire-skinned  bodies,  bathed  in  an  atmosphere  of 
perpetual  moisture,  sensations  are  experienced  far  more 
slowly,  the  "  circulus  "  of  reflection  takes  longer  to  complete. 
Their  impressions  and  perceptions  are  certainly  less  numerous 
and  acute.  Like  their  sensibilities,  their  physical  imagination 
— I  mean  the  faculty  of  consciously  visualising  sensations — is 
lethargic  and  dull.  This  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  surgical 
operations  are  more  successful  on  an  Englishman  than  on  an 
Italian,  for  instance — the  former  excites  and  agitates  himself 
far  less  than  the  latter.  The  imperturbability  of  the  English 
Grenadiers  under  fire,  in  Spain,  at  Waterloo,  at  Inkerman,  has 
extorted  the  admiration  even  of  their  enemies  :  unimpeachable 
witnesses.  They  are  not  compelled,  like  the  Frenchman,  to 
try  and  forget  in  the  excitement,  the  hurry  and  the  "quick 
march,"  the  vivid  images  their  brain  conjures  up  of  the  bullet 
whistling  past  their  ears,  the  fractured  limb,  and  the  spasmodic 
agony.  Any  one  who  has  spent  a  week  in  London  cannot 
have  failed  to  notice  the  usual  method  of  advertising,  which 
consists  in  the  senseless  and  incessant  repetition  of  the  same 
word,  the  name  of  a  candidate  perhaps,  posted  up  by  hundreds 
over  huge  spaces.  Our  livelier  minds  are  wearied  and  stunned 
by  it,  but  these  thousand  repetitions  are  absolutely  necessary  in 
order  to  penetrate  the  thick  covering  which,  with  the  English 
envelopes  the  organ  of  perception.  Our  literary  taste  is 
offended  by  the  exaggerated  and  distorted  types,  over- 
coloured  pictures,  and  venomous  coarse  irony,  which  are  to  be 


PHYSICAL   ENVIRONMENT  13 

found  in  the  works  of  even  their  most  cultured  authors.  If 
such  characteristics  were  not  sufficiently  accentuated  to  jar  on 
our  sensibilities,  theirs  would  be  left  untouched.  Their 
"humour"  is  sometimes  a  fantasy,  exquisite,  soaring, 
unfettered  ;  yet  it  is  obvious  that  the  brilliant  effect  is 
obtained  by  the  mind's  momentary  divorce  from  reason, 
reality,  and  limit  ;  with  the  simple  desire  of  appearing  to  the 
best  advantage,  it  chooses  a  seeming  vacuity  for  the  display  of 
its  evolutions.  At  other  times  their  humour  is  but  a  gloomy 
and  tedious  buffoonery,  ambling  ponderously  and  per- 
severingly  along  under  its  load,  between  the  real  gravity 
of  its  basis  and  the  mock  gravity  of  its  form.  Our  wit  is  of 
an  entirely  different  calibre  ;  it  resembles  neither  the  bird  in 
flight  nor  the  beast  of  burden  dragging  along  its  load ; 
rather  must  it  be  compared  to  a  plant,  rising  up  from  the 
earth,  with  a  graceful  calyx  airily  poised  upon  a  stem,  whose 
flower  exhales  the  most  delicate  quintessence  of  good  sense 
and  good  taste.  In  short,  with  the  English  it  is  necessary  to 
strike  hard,  or  repeatedly,  in  order  to  reach  their  perceptions ; 
like  a  bell,  the  sound  of  which,  deeper  and  more  muffled  than 
that  of  other  bells,  is  the  result  of  ampler  and  more  prolonged 
vibrations. 

3. — The  Creative  Imagination. 

Let  us  imagine  a  cluster  of  primitive  men  cast  upon  a 
shore  in  a  dry  and  temperate  clime  ;  perhaps  Italy,  or  Greece. 
The  limpidity  of  the  atmosphere,  through  which  surrounding 
objects  are  seen,  the  beauty  of  the  light  in  which  they  are 
bathed,  the  exquisite  gradation  of  shades,  the  delicacy  of  out- 
line, the  brilliancy  and  variety  of  colour — all  these  are  a  feast 
for  the  eye.  Vivid  sensations  in  endless  variety  occupy  and 
enthrall  the  soul,  which  becomes  absorbed  in  the  magic  of 
the  outer  world. 

From  these  varying   impressions,  so  sharply  defined  yet  so 


14  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

graduated,  arises  a  conglomeration  of  clear  ideas  which  group 
themselves  of  their  own  accord  in  the  brain.  The  mind  takes 
pleasure  in  reviewing  these  ideas,  in  arranging  them.  The 
mouth  loves  to  express  them  in  beautiful  language,  many- 
syllabled,  joyous,  deep-sounding,  lingeringly  uttered  in  the 
still  atmosphere  which  conveys  them  slowly  to  the  ear.  In 
such  countries  as  these,  thought,  expressed  or  unexpressed,  is 
naturally  analytical  ;  it  is  both  a  true  presentment  and 
an  enchanted  vision  ;  one  after  the  other  it  unfolds,  as  in  a 
play,  images  and  ideas,  which  are  to  some  extent  a  part  of 
Nature  herself.  Receiving  so  many  varied  and  delicate 
impressions,  man  reluctantly  leaves  them  for  action,  and 
eagerly  takes  the  first  opportunity  to  return  to  the  living 
pictures  which  Nature  and  his  own  fancy  can  conjure  up 
before  him  at  will.  A  kind  of  passive  and  refined  dilettantism 
is  the  source  from  whence  he  derives  his  greatest  pleasures. 
Under  British  skies  intellectual  development  proceeds  in 
another  fashion.  In  that  atmosphere,  misty  or  clouded  with 
rain,  outlines  grow  indistinct,  shades  merge  one  in  the  other, 
and  delicate  colours  become  a  uniform  grey.  The  clamour  of 
red  and  green  alone  resists  the  deadening  influence  ;  and  these 
are  the  colours  for  England.  A  sensation  habitually  sad, 
monotonous  and  uninteresting,  quickly  loses  its  hold  upon  the 
human  soul,  which  turns  to  things  more  seductive.  The 
spiritual  world  attracts  and  absorbs  it,  and  if  a  reaction 
afterwards  takes  place  through  some  sudden  enlightenment,  or 
the  unexpected  appeal  of  a  more  definite  and  attractive 
impression,  it  is  accompanied  by  an  increased  capacity  for 
appreciation,  evidenced  by  the  vigour  and  depth  of  the 
sentiment,  and  often,  perhaps  always,  by  images  and  ideas 
rendered  vivid  by  long  abstraction  ;  these  the  soul  brings  out 
of  its  own  depths,  giving  full  and  free  expression  to  them. 
Never  has  man's  sensibility  received  less  from  the  outer  world, 
nor  appreciated  more  intensely  in  its  own  way  the  little 
which    it    chanced    to    obtain.      In    no    other  country  have 


PHYSICAL   ENVIRONMENT  15 

external  impressions  been  more  intensified  by  the  imagination 
forced  back  upon  itself,  and  steeped  in  the  very  inmost  soul  of 
man.  In  Wordsworth's  verses  on  a  sunrise  the  description  is 
all  of  spiritual  impressions,  there  is  barely  reference  to  visible 
form  or  colour.  Shelley  saw  in  Nature  only  his  dreams.  The 
painter's  brush  is  guided  by  the  poet  soul,  the  poet  speaks  and 
sings  with  the  feeling  of  the  psychologist  or  the  moralist. 
The  whole  of  the  imaginative  literature  of  England  bears 
evidence  of  this  inner  life,  which  continually  reacts  and 
encroaches  on  the  material  world  with  a  singular  power  of 
transformation  and  interpretation.  Thus  there  is  in  it  no 
light  and  smiling  dilettantism  ;  its  joys  are  tragic  and  profound, 
its  sufferings  deep-rooted  and  violent.  The  imagination  is  not 
content  to  reproduce,  with  a  mere  difference  of  arrangement, 
the  impressions  resulting  from  perception,  but  rather  does  a 
powerful  and  original  invention  develop  in  the  twilight  of  the 
inner  life  a  whole  efflorescence  of  shapes,  which  shoot  up  in 
the  light,  dragging  with  them  the  scanty  real  impressions 
which  gave  them  birth.  There  could  be  no  greater  contrast 
to  the  easy  receptivity  of  the  man  of  the  South,  who,  like  a 
strip  of  photographic  paper,  unrolling  itself  before  the  physical 
world,  slowly  and  faithfully  presents  a  perfect  reproduction 
of  it. 

This  rich  poetry  of  soul,  which  has  produced  many 
incomparable  works,  is  confined  to  a  few  highly  gifted  or 
extremely  cultured  minds.  To  the  masses,  mental  pictures 
are  almost  unknown  and  always  disquieting  ;  vague  and  con- 
fused as  the  perceptions  which  furnish  their  substance.  The 
imagination,  without  earthly  guide  or  model,  without  rich 
skeins  of  colour,  cannot  weave  its  brilliant  veil,  and  sometimes 
even  forgets  the  art  of  spinning.  Words,  abortive  and  cold, 
cannot  describe  nature  by  mere  analysis.  The  Englishman 
rapidly  launches  his  dull  monosyllables  on  the  cold  air,  and 
entrenches  himself  again  in  his  silence.  The  power  of 
expression,  like  that  of  sensation   and    thought,  becomes  facile 


1 6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

and  brilliant  in  an  atmosphere  of  comfort  and  ease  :  it 
develops  in  the  sunshine  of  riches  and  leisure.  A  kind  of 
second  human  nature,  the  product  of  art  and  of  will,  can 
nurture  in  its  freshly  turned  soil  the  delicate  seeds,  which 
would  germinate  but  rarely  in  the  solid,  compact  ground  of 
the  original  stock.  To  the  igross-minded  even  now  they  do 
not  yield  all  their  flowers.  "  Hesitating,  humming  and 
drawling  are  the  three  Graces  of  the  English  conversation," 
as  a  wit  once  said.  No  other  people  can  furnish  in  the  same 
degree  the  contrast  and  paradox  of  genius — and  an  incompar- 
able poetic  sensibility  in  the  chosen  few — with  an  extraordinary 
dulness  and  cerebral  aridity  in  the  masses. 

Does  this  mean  that  no  ideal  exists  for  the  unfortunate 
masses  ?  They  have  an  ideal,  a  sovereign  good  ;  one  which  we 
have  already  pointed  out.  It  matters  little  that,  for  the  bulk 
of  the  English  people,  the  world  of  visible  perception  and  the 
world  of  pure  thought,  are  two  meagre  worlds,  unattractive, 
unpromising.  As  a  matter  of  fact  this  poverty  of  mind  merely 
compels  them  to  have  recourse  to  the  personal  joy  of  action, 
the  poetry  of  the  will.  The  tonos  becomes  the  ideal  of  the 
stoical  utilitarian.  In  default  of  that  subtle  enlightenment  which 
makes  plain  the  exquisite  harmony  of  the  universe,  the  English 
people  for  centuries  past  have  been  stimulated  by  the  dim 
warmth  developed  by  voluntary  action.  It  seems  as  if  the 
tension  of  the  muscles  quickens  the  life  in  their  apathetic 
nerves,  as  if  the  tension  of  the  whole  moral  being,  in  the 
moment  of  action,  affords  the  most  vivid  and  acute  joy  to  these 
people,  driven  back  upon  themselves  as  they  are  by  unsympa- 
thetic Nature,  and  cut  off  from  their  due  expansion.  And 
what  they  glory  in,  is  not  only  the  action  of  the  will  upon 
outward  things,  moulding,  transforming,  and  leaving  its 
imprint  upon  them  ;  but  the  action  of  the  will,  by  an  effort 
certainly  not  less,  nor  less  meritorious,  upon  the  spirit  which  it 
brings  into  subjection,  placing  its  seal  thereon.  This  brings  to 
mind  the  notable  saying  borrowed  by  Taine  from  Tom  Brown  s 


PHYSICAL   ENVIRONMENT  17 

School  Days^  "  the  consciousness  of  silent  endurance,  so  dear  to 
every  Englishman — of  standing  out  against  spmething,  and  not 
giving  in."  This  is  the  true  key  to  the  English  character. 
Tennyson  expressed  the  same  thought  in  the  magnificent  lines 
of  his  poem  "  Ulysses."  He  tells  how  the  indefatigable  circum- 
navigator, weary  of  Ithaca  and  Penelope,  and  yielding  to  the 
nostalgia  of  travel,  drags  his  followers  on  to  fresh  enterprises, 
reckless  of  his  diminished  forces  ; — 

"  How  dull  it  is  to  pause,  to  make  an  end  ; 
To  rust,  unburnish'-d,  not  to  shine  in  use  ! 
As  tho'  to  breathe  were  life  .  .  . 
.  .  .  That  which  we  are,  we  arc. 
One  equal  temper  of  heroic  hearts, 
Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will 
To  strike,  to  seek  to  find  and  not  to  yield." 

4, — The  Power  of  Abstraction. 

In  order  to  arrive  at  the  root  of  the  relative  inability  of  the 
English  people  to  formulate  general  ideas,  and  of  their  dislike 
for  theories  and  systems,  we  must  follow  the  operations  of  the 
guiding  principle  through  the  innermost  workings  of  the 
mind,  as  well  as  in  external  developments.  The  conditions 
which  hinder  or  facilitate  the  powers  of  generalisation  are 
obvious.  All  generalisation  must  have  a  perfectly  definite 
element  of  abstraction,  which  is  more  easily  recognisable,  and 
stands  out  in  greater  relief,  the  more  free  a  man  is  to  yield 
himself  up,  wholly  and  continuously,  to  the  impressions  which 
partake  of  it.  But  this  element  of  abstraction  is  lacking  in 
England,  where  people  are  incessantly  absorbed  in,  or  called 
elsewhere  by,  the  necessity  for  action.  Every  generalisation 
implies  a  more  or  less  arbitrary  extension.  Every  abstraction 
infers  a  more  or  less  inexact  simplification.  Therefore 
N  generalisation,  or  the  power  of  abstraction,  for  they  are  one 
and  the  same  thing,  can  only  have  free  play  when  the  mind 
is  not  incessantly  impelled  towards  concrete  realities  by  this 

C 


1 8  THE   ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

necessity  for  action.  Concrete  realities  compel  the  intellect  to 
bring  to  a  perpetual  and  discouraging  test,  the  erroneously 
simple,  and  practically  false  elements  in  any  assertion  which 
aspires  to  be  at  all  comprehensive. 

The  people  who  excel  in  the  production  of  general  ideas,  or 
the  construction  of  theories,  are  those  whose  sensations  are  so 
numerous  and  distinct  that  they  can  visualise  to  themselves 
without  effort  any  number  of  perceptions,  acute,  definite,  and 
varied.  An  admirable  example  of  this  is  to  be  found  among 
the  ancient  Greeks.  Their  minds  were  stored  with  a  limitless 
series  of  imaginary  impressions^  each  of  which,  reacting  upon 
the  others,  produced  an  endless  number  of  abstract  ideas  in  the 
ever-present  intelligence.  Like  a  swarm  of  bees,  or  a  flight  of 
birds,  they  soared  aloft  and  built  a  kind  of  independent  city,  a 
town  of  birds,  so  to  speak,  where  the  mind  took  pleasure  in 
the  review  of  general  propositions,  which  arranged,  opposed, 
and  grouped  themselves  according  to  their  own  laws  of 
equilibrium,  following  a  sort  of  abstract  eurythmy  ;  building 
themselves  up  in  stages,  ranging  themselves  in  facades,  and 
spacing  themselves  out  in  noble  architecture.  The  require- 
ments of  the  world  of  action  place  a  gulf  between  it  and  this 
purely  speculative  construction.  It  is  only  when  the  order  of 
the  parts  has  been  determined,  and  received  the  inviolable  seal 
of  harmony,  that  man  returns  to  the  realities  of  life,  and  under- 
takes to  adjust  their  infinite  diversity  to  all  these  wise,  uniform, 
and  unchangeable  elevations. 

With  the  Englishman,  the  rarity  and  original  indefiniteness 
of  the  mind's  imaginings,  and  their  heavy  and  vmcertain  gravi- 
tation, hinder  the  formation  of  repeated  and  varied  conjunctions, 
from  which  abstractions  would  be  evolved  in  abundance. 
Springing  up  here  and  there  in  obscure  isolation,  they  do  not 
form  an  organised  group,  capable  of  movement,  sufficiently 
well  ordered  and  concerted  to  raise  itself  as  a  whole  into  higher 
regions,  where  it  can  be  devoted  to  the  building  up  of  great 
abstract  structures.     Besides,  the  imperious  necessity  for  action 


PHYSICAL   ENVIRONMENT  19 

and  the  concentration  required  to  secure  its  intensity,  con- 
tinuity, and  efficacy  take  entire  possession  of  him,  and  cut 
off,  as  it  were,  the  horizon  around  him.  Generah'sation, 
captive  and  parasite  of  action,  finds  no  space  in  which  to 
expand,  nor  sufficient  strength  to  develop  beyond  the  limits  of 
a  narrow  circumference.  It  stops  short  directly  the  mind  feels 
a  foreboding  that  in  developing  further  it  would  weaken  the 
spring  which  causes  the  expansion  of  human  activity.  All 
the  natural  tendencies  of  the  power  of  generalisation  are  there- 
fore curbed  and  forced  back  upon  themselves.  It  aspires  to  be 
universal  and  eternal,  but  action  only  occupies  a  point  in  space, 
a  moment  in  time.  It  proceeds  from  abstraction,  simplifica- 
tion ;  but  action  is  complex,  mixed,  heterogenous.  Generali- 
sation rises  only  to  fall  back  again,  and,  springing  forward,  hurls 
itself  against  a  barrier.  It  is  not  surprising  that  intelligences 
which  for  centuries  have  worked  under  this  discipline  should 
have  become  almost  incapable  of  generalising,  and,  for  the  very 
good  reason,  that  absolute  principles,  theories  and  systems,  if  it 
does  produce  them,  engender  in  it  a  sort  of  unconscious 
distrust,  a  deep  and  instinctive  uneasiness. 

The  penetrating  and  cold  mind  of  a  Royer-Collard  took 
pleasure  in  the  formula,  "I  disdain  a  fact."  The  fiery  genius 
of  a  Burke  did  not  hide  its  distaste  for  abstractions.  "I  hate," 
said  he,  "  the  very  sound  of  them."  These  two  opinions 
admirably  sum  up  the  conflicting  views  of  the  two  nations. 
But  do  not  mistake  mc  :  I  do  not  mean  that  in  England 
there  is  an  organic  infirmity  of  the  generalising  faculty,  but 
rather  that  the  faculty  of  abstraction  passively  depends  upon, 
and  subordinates  itself  to,  a  limited  aim,  which  prevents  it 
from  working  except  for  clearly  defined  ends,  and  renders  it 
at  other  times  passive.^     The  practical  mind  is  one  in  which 

'  It  is  not  only  abstract  ideas  which  are  distasteful  to  the  English,  hut 
anything  which  represents  a  whole.  As  soon  as  they  encounter  ©ne  they 
divide  it  and  cut  it  up  into  fragments.  "  They  feel  instinctively,''  said  a 
great  observer,  "that  if  they  are  conscious  of  all  the  various  points  of 


20  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

ideas,  instead  of  freely  classifying  themselves  with  all  their 
possible  affinities — a  delicate,  laborious,  and  slow  process — 
connect  themselves  simply  with  one  aim,  with  a  certain  type 
of  life,  like  an  accepted  "  postulum."  The  power  of  generali- 
sation is  not  necessarily  weak,  but  it  is  limited  and  self- 
contained,  it  awaits  a  signal  to  exercise  itself;  when  the  signal 
does  come,  however,  it  exercises  itself  with  singular  propriety, 
assurance,  and  efficacy.  It  resembles,  not  the  general  who 
commands  the  whole  army,  conceives  the  plan  of  attack,  and 
enjrafres  in  battle,  but  the  officer  who,  at  a  distance  from  the 
field,  holds  a  reserve  corps  in  readiness  to  help  in  time  of  need. 
This  officer  may  not  be  qualified  to  join  in  the  exploits  of  the 
vanguard,  but  he  is  unrivalled  in  his  ability  to  obtain  a  strong 
position  at  the  outposts  and  hold  it  against  the  attacking  force. 
In  such  case,  though  there  may  be  metaphysics,  they  will  be 
limited  in  interest,  destined  to  establish  a  rule  of  life,  as  is  the 
case  with  a  religion  ;  there  may  be  political  ideology,  but  it 
will  only  be  a  subordinate  ideology,  which  busies  itself  in 
drawing  up  justifications  and  apologies  after  a  defeat. 

view  which  are  connected  with  their  thought,  the  certainty,  immutability 
and  direct  continuity  of  their  effort  to  attain  a  practical  end  will  be 
weakened." 


CHAPTER  II 


THE    IDEAL    IN    ITSELF 


I.— The  World  of  the  Spirit. 

The  cultivation  of  will  power,  the  feebleness  and  rarity  of 
sensations,  and,  among  highly-gifted  minds,  the  instinctive 
presentment  of  those  pictures  which  rise  up  in  the  mind  and 
seek  outward  expression,  and,  lastly,  the  weakness  and 
inferiority  of  the  faculty  of  abstraction — these  are  the  causes 
which,  by  force  of  numbers  or  the  influence  of  master  minds, 
largely  determine  the  conception  English  people  form  of  the 
world  of  the  Spirit,  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good.  We 
must  follow  this  operation  in  their  inner  lives,  and  shall  then 
the  more  surely  be  able  to  recognise  its  reproduction  in 
politics. 

When  sensations  are  habitually  rich  and  varied,  man, 
interested  and  absorbed,  cannot  detach  himself  without  an 
effort  from  Nature,  which  is  reflected  in  his  senses.  He 
imagines  himself  one  of  the  personages  in  an  endless  procession, 
another  drop  in  the  flood  of  manifestations,  a  mirror  in  which 
the  co5?nos  sees  and  admires  itself.  He  "  places "  the 
universe,  and  seeks  a  position  for  himself  in  the  general  plan  of 
things.  A  materialistic  conception  of  life  is  in  some  degree 
suggested  to  him  by  all  his  surroundings.  In  England,  where 
sensations  are  weak  and  vague,  interrupted  and  broken,  man 
does  not  become  absorbed  in  the  outer  world  ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  seeks  refuge  in  the  inner  life  ;  he  soon  learns  to 


22  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

"place"  himself  independently  of  Nature,  intrenches  himself 
in  his  own  consciousness,  and  there  remains  ;  if  he  again 
ventures  forth  he  deigns  to  recognise  only  his  immediate 
environment.  Naturalism  is  entirely  foreign  to  the  English 
mind,  and  metaphysical  speculation  absolutely  contrary  to  it. 
Both  infer  a  sort  of  prolonged  impersonality  on  the  part  of  the 
thinker,  a  forgetfulness,  a  detachment,  an  alibi.  He  must 
come  out  of  himself  in  order  to  attempt  to  complete,  either  on 
earth  or  in  the  clouds,  any  great  and  permanent  structure. 
The  building  up  of  such  a  structure,  if  an  Englishman 
attempts  it,  w^ill  of  necessity  be  disturbed  or  interrupted  by  his 
strong  conviction  that  the  human  being  ought  to  occupy  the 
first  plane,  by  the  persistent  idea  that  he  ought  to  be  a  part  of 
it  all,  by  the  question,  a  hundred  times  repeated,  What  have  I 
to  gain  by  all  this  labour  ?  With  the  Englishman  the  wings 
of  the  spirit  have  not  finished  growing  ;  they  do  not  lend 
themselves  to  any  great  flights  ;  they  simply  help  it  to  walk  ; 
if  it  rises  for  an  instant  it  falls  back  again  to  earth  the  instant 
after,  in  the  consciousness  of  a  personality  that  does  not  allow 
itself  to  forget.  This  personality  derives  considerable  force 
from  the  powerful  interests  which,  as  we  have  pointed  out, 
attract  it  to  them,  dominating  it  by  the  prestige  of  an  immense 
and  sure  success,  occupying  it  without  intermission,  keeping  it 
near  the  earth.  The  intensity  of  his  material  wants,  the  rich 
promise  of  his  country's  soil,  the  facilities  arising  from  its 
geographical  position,  all  the  consciousness  of  wealth  and 
power,  create  for  the  Englishman  an  ideal  within  reach  of  his 
eyes  and  hands,  and  urge  him  to  unceasing  activity.  He  has 
no  time  to  follow  vain  phantoms  ;  they  are  too  far  removed 
from  earth,  too  alien  to  life  here  below,  to  its  conditions  and 
necessities.  Naturalism  and  metaphysics  kept  at  a  distance,  or 
used  merely  as  a  background  for  the  perpetually  moving 
human  microcosm,  sink  to  the  level  of  religion,  and  religion 
that  plays  the  part  of  a  trusted  guide,  specially  esteemed  for  its 
common    sense — maghter    vitce.      Even  in    matters    of   faith 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITSELF  23 

the  Englishman  hardly  gets  beyond  the  horizon  of  the 
circumstantial  psychologist  and  moralist,  of  the  earth,  earthy. 
He  is  in  no  sense  a  pantheist,  a  mystic,  or  a  sceptic. 

This  growth  apart  of  the  inner  life — the  imagination  and 
the  will — and  the  strong  resistance  it  opposes  to  external 
impressions,  produce  a  mental  and  moral  equilibrium  very 
different  from  what  is  observable  among  those  whose  hearts  and 
minds,  wide  open  to  outside  influences,  have  been  educated 
through  the  senses.  With  these  latter  the  idea  prevails  that 
those  things  which  are  manifest — I  mean  everything  which 
comes  within  the  range  of  the  senses,  actions  and  abstract 
conceptions — have  by  themselves  and  in  themselves  alone  a 
considerable  value,  a  high  significance,  an  individual  virtue 
and  an  intrinsic  force,  and  that  there  is  a  certain  correspon- 
dence between  the  order  in  which  they  present  themselves  and 
the  more  mysterious  order  of  the  Divine  Laws.  With  the 
English,  on  the  contrary,  it  seems  that  such  things  have  no 
significance  except  by  their  relation  to  spiritual  forces,  or  more 
exactly  speaking,  to  a  certain  spiritual  equilibrium,  a  state  of 
absolute  consciousness,  from  whence  comes  all  their  virtue, 
and  from  whence  they  derive  an  artificial  life.  Are  examples 
required  ?  Ceremonies  can  have  merit  without  piety,  toler- 
ation can  exist  without  purity  of  heart,  works  without  faith, 
absolution  without  repentance,  rhyme  without  poetry,  laws 
without  the  support  of  morals,  diverse  beliefs  proceeding  from 
one  and  the  same  cause  :  the  premature  occupation  of  the 
human  heart  by  an  immense  army  of  perceptions — articulate 
sounds,  images  of  objects  or  of  actions  defiling  in  perfect 
order,  before  the  mind  has  been  able  to  take  possession  of 
itself,  arrange  its  means  of  resistance,  and  protect  itself  against 
so  powerful  an  influence.  All  the  Englishman's  strength  has 
its  source  in  his  inner  moral  being  ;  with  him  everything 
depends  on  a  general  inspiration  and  impetus  which  are 
generated  in  those  obscure  precincts.  There,  where  they 
operate,  space  does  not  allow  of  a  lingering  over  the  detail  of 


24  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

actions,  over  the  form,  the  words,  or  the  absolute  rules  by 
which  they  put  in  motion  their  accomplishment  ;  they  will 
easily  adapt  the  means  to  their  end.  If  faith  is  granted,  works 
will  follow ;  anything  that  is  lacking  it  will  supply.  In 
politics  the  sure  guardian  of  the  liberties  of  the  subject  will 
not  be  the  careful  text  of  a  constitution  in  which  every 
emergency  has  been  foreseen  and  provided  against,  but,  behind 
vague  tradition,  beneath  the  insufficient  and  out-of-date  for- 
mulas of  the  old  byways,  the  constant  presence  of  an  unsleeping 
will,  ready  to  be  on  the  defensive  at  the  smallest  indication  of 
the  infringement  of  its  ancient  liberties. 

2. — The   True.      The  Beautiful.      The   Good. 

With  the  man  of  the  South  external  perceptions  are 
reflected  in  the  mind  in  a  series  of  images,  both  distinct  and 
numerous.  They  are  distinct,  i.e.^  their  limits  are  sharply 
defined  and  thoroughly  obvious  ;  they  are  numerous,  i.e.^  in 
the  unity  of  time,  a  long  series  of  images  follow  one  another  in 
the  mind,  aiding  in  the  exercise  of  the  faculty  of  abstraction. 
We  have  seen  that  this  faculty  in  the  countries  where  the 
sun  has  most  power  is  more  active  than  in  others.  The  mind 
contemplates  with  serenity  this  infinity  of  perceptions.  They 
superpose  one  upon  another  a  large  number  of  times,  with  such 
effect  that  finally  a  common  part  detaches  itself  from  the  mass, 
and  one  single  word,  a,  substantive  or  a  verb,  is  chosen  to 
designate  it.  During  the  process  of  superposition  these 
perceptions  become  separated  one  from  the  other,  and  other 
words,  adjectives,  adverbs  and  adverbial  phrases,  are  used  to 
designate  the  differentiated  part.  With  the  Englishman  the 
mechanism  of  perception  is  totally  different ;  the  images  it 
presents  to  the  mind  are  confused  and  rare.  They  are  confused, 
i.e.^  their  outlines  are  blurred  by  the  mist,  and  it  is  not  possible 
to  say  exactly  where  one  ends  and  the  other  begins  ;  they  are 
rare,  i.e.^  in  the  unity  of  time  only  a  few  are  produced.     The 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITSELF  25 

faculty  of  abstraction,  when  it  is  applied  to  these  intermittent 
perceptions,  encounters  difficulties  which  hinder  its  operation. 
Such  perceptions  do  not  lend  themselves  to  repeated  super- 
positions. Produced  at  first  singly,  they  make  a  profound 
impression  on  the  human  heart,  and  provoke  a  powerful 
response  on  the  part  of  the  imagination,  which  emphasises  the 
individuality  of  the  impression,  and  renders  it  less  liable  to 
become  confused  with  others.  Finally,  supposing  that  super- 
position is  possible,  another  difficulty  is  encountered  :  the 
absence  of  precise  limits,  of  definite  outline,  makes  it  impossible 
to  distinguish  and  name  each  of  the  differentiated  parts  which 
the  inhabitants  of  the  countries  of  the  sun  designate  by 
adjectives  or  adverbs.  These  parts  adhere  to  the  common 
part,  and  a  separate  word — a  noun  or  a  verb — must  be  used  to 
designate  each  whole. 

One  example  will  suffice  to  demonstrate  the  different 
operations  of  the  two  minds.  Let  us  take  in  French  the 
word  regarder.  This  word  in  our  language  is  only  a  relic  ; 
the  survivor  of  many  superpositions  from  which  has  been 
evolved,  among  several  variations,  a  common  part  now 
definitely  designated  by  this  word.  The  differentiated  parts 
have  either  undergone  depreciation,  as  in  the  words  guigner 
rcluquer^  toiser^  which  have  become  familiar  or  fallen  into 
disuse  ;  or  else  they  have  disappeared  altogether,  in  which  case 
they  have  been  replaced  by  adjectives,  adverbs,  or  adverbial 
phrases,  as  in  regarder  fixement^  or  par  celllades^  or  avec 
hauteur^  or  en  tapinoh^  &c.  Now  take  the  English  verb 
"  to  look."  I  notice  in  this  connection  two  classes  of 
facts  :  (i)  The  simple  variations  of  the  action  of  looking  are 
expressed  by  the  post-positions  which  almost  correspond  to  the 
pre-positions  included  in  the  Latin  verb,  only  they  do  not 
modify  the  sense  to  nearly  the  same  extent.  The  words  res- 
picere^  desp'uere^  suspicere^  introsp'icere^  cover  in  their  figurative 
sense  a  very  wide  field,  whilst  the  words,  "  to  look  up," 
"down,"     "-away,"      "round,"  &c.,  are    as  a  rule    limited 


26  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

to  the  literal  sense.  (2)  These  compounds  of  the  verb  "to 
look "  do  not  exclude  other  synonyms  used  to  express  the 
subtler  shades  of  meaning  and  further  variations  of  the  action 
of  looking  : — 

To  stare  regarder  fixement. 

To  glance  regarder  par  oeillades. 

To  gaze  regarder  avec  ebabissement  ou  admiration. 

To  glare  devorer  des  yeux. 

To  wink  regarder  du  coin  de  I'oeil. 

To  survey  dominer  du  regard. 

To  peep  dominer  en  tapinois. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  these  synonyms  have  retained,  and  keep 
inseparably  blended  with  the  principal  sense,  the  differentiated 
parts  vv^hich  the  French  at  first  separated  from  the  verb,  but 
aftervi^ards  restored  to  it  in  order  to  complete  the  sense. 

Moreover,  we  cannot  fail  to  recognise,  when  observing  the 
actual  position  of  an  idea,  and  the  words  which  express  it,  in 
the  two  languages,  that  the  dissection  of  the  idea  by  analysis 
and  the  omission  or  altered  classification  of  certain  words  by 
means  of  abstraction,  are  far  more  advanced  in  French  than  in 
English.  Let  us  take,  for  example,  the  synonyms  df  the  word 
br'iller :  to  shine.  In  French  we  find  only  nine,  of  which 
six  have  a  general  sense,  which  is  applicable,  so  to  speak,  to 
them  all  ;  these  are :  luire^  kinceler^  Jiamhoyer^  rayonner^ 
respkndir^  sclntiller ;  three,  on  the  contrary,  are  more  or  less 
particularised,  and  some  of  them,  viz.,  chatoyer^  miro'iter^  papil- 
loter^  are  fast  becoming  obsolete.  In  English  there  are  no  less 
than  sixteen  synonyms  of  the  word  to  shine.  Most  of  these 
words  have  retained  a  certain  speciality,  which  gives  them  a 
particular  meaning  and  prevents  their  being  used  for  any 
object  which  shines.  To  glow  indicates  a  light  accompanied 
by  warmth,  and  cannot  be  applied  to  water,  a  diamond,  nor  a 
star.  Similarly,  the  word  to  glare  is  applicable  only  to  the 
sun,  or  to  the  eyes  of  a  wild  beast,  shining  in  the  dark.  The 
word  to  gloom  has  a  very  particular  sense  :  wz.,  to  emit  a  dull 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITSELF  27 

light,  &c.  We  might  add  to  these  observations  the  simple 
remark  that,  of  the  sixteen  words  used  as  synonyms  of  to  shine, 
there  are  nine  :  to  glint,  to  glitter,  to  glisten,  to  glimmer,  to 
glimpse,  to  gleam,  to  glare,  to  glow,  to  gloom,  which  appear 
to  have  the  same  root,  and  to  be  fundamentally  the  same  word. 
But  abstraction  is  powerless  to  reduce  these  different  expres- 
sions in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  only  two  or  three,  as  would 
have  been  the  case,  for  instance,  in  French. 

If  from  the  vocabulary  we  pass  to  the  complete  sentence, 
we  find  quite  as  many  marked  differences.  I  will  only  mention 
one,  which  relates  to  the  conjunctions.  In  French  the 
generality  of  the  conjunctions  include  the  word  que  or  are 
followed  by  it,  so  that  we  havq  no  doubt  of  their  use  in  the 
phrase ;  they  introduce  a  subordinate  sentence  into  it  in 
addition  to  the  principal  sentence.  The  words,  lorsque^  apres 
que^  depuis  que^  puisquBy  pourvu  que^  vu  que^  attendu  que^  tant  que^ 
jusqua  ce  que^  &c.,  are  all  examples  of  this.  Nothing  of  the 
kind  occurs  in  English  ;  with  the  exception  of  the  word  "  why," 
which  is  the  auxiliary  of  "  who,"  the  other  conjunctions, 
"  when,"  "  while,"  "  since,"  "  after,"  "till,"  "  though,"  "  if," 
are  independent  of  the  relative  "that."  If  a  word  is  needed  to 
express  a  limit  and  another  a  period  of  duration  the  Englishman 
forthwith  makes  use  o^  uW^jusqua  ce  que^  and  ^\\\\cy  pendant  que ; 
he  is  careful  not  to  add  anything  that  would  illuminate  the 
conjunctive  character  of  these  words.  If  we  also  take  into 
consideration  the  fact  that  the  French  language  undoubtedly 
contains  a  larger  number  of  conjunctions  than  the  English,  we 
must  come  to  the  double  conclusion  that  the  Englishman  is 
less  convinced,  not  only  of  the  necessity  of  linking  his  phrases 
together,  but  of  clearly  demonstrating  the  link  which  connects 
them. 

We  shall  not  therefore  be  surprised  at  the  tardy  develop- 
ment of  prose  in  England.  The  simple,  animated  and  vivid 
phraseology  suited  to  the  story,  for  example,  which  we  have 
possessed  since  the    thirteenth  century,   the  English   had  not 


28  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

mastered  even  in  the  seventeenth  century. i  Precise  expressions, 
very  exactly  determined  sense,  and  rather  colourless  vv^ords 
which  appeal  more  to  the  intelligence  than  to  the  passions, 
are  essential.  The  English  language  by  no  means  fulfilled 
these  conditions  ;  it  only  contained  words  highly  charged  with 
colour,  which  could  with  difficulty  be  constrained  into  the 
expression  of  abstractions,  and  were  so  unmanageable  that, 
even  when  uttered,  they  gave  play  not  to  flights  of  volatile 
ideas  flitting  across  the  sky,  but  to  a  swarm  of  intense  emotions 
whirling  round  a  concrete  image.  They  were  lacking  in  the 
qualities  of  taste,  the  easy  method  and  occasional  flight  of  the 
storyteller  ;  their  qualities  became  defects,  dulling  the  charm 
of  their  style,  and  making  it  incoherent,  like  a  nightmare. 
We  may  observe  with  Taine  that  even  Bacon,  who  was 
accounted  the  chief  English  prose  writer  of  his  time,  was  not 
master  of  his  own  language,  and  continually  betrayed  himself  a 
poet  and  visionary  ;  he  was  ill  at  ease  with  the  abstract  vocabu- 
lary, and,  though  esteemed  a  philosopher,  was  a  mere  dialec- 
tician. In  short,  at  this  period  thought  in  England  had  not 
completely  issued  from  its  natural  indivision  ;  ideas  arose  from 
the  depth  of  the  mind  like  a  thick  tuft  of  grass,  still  adhering 
to  the  turf  from  which  it  had  sprung  ;  very  different  from 
our  harvested  sheaf,  which  might  be  untied,  spread  out,  beaten 
and  made  up  neatly  again,  after  sorting. 

These  are  the  elementary  tendencies  which  invariably 
appear  in  every  work  of  art.  The  Englishman  is  rather  pos- 
sessed by  them  than  possesses  them,  for  they  operate  in  him  and 
guide  him  like  instincts.  But,  above  the  tyranny  of  instinct, 
rises  the  liberty  of  the  spirit.  From  the  elements  of  which  a 
subject  is  composed,  the  intelligence  chooses  one  conscien- 
tiously and  voluntarily,  embracing  it  with  fervour,  developing 
it  with  pleasure  :  making  it  an  ideal.  Beauty  is  the  sensible 
expression  of  the  causes  and  conditions  from  whence  happiness 

'  "  An  English  Froissart  at  this  period  (fourteenth  century)  had  written 
in  Latin"  (Jusserand,  Literature  anglaisc,  p.  417). 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITSELF  29 

arises.  The  idea  of  beauty  is  therefore  connected  witli  that  of 
sovereign  good.  Placed  under  the  necessity  of  supplementing 
the  poverty,  monotony,  and  incoherence  of  external  perception, 
the  Englishman  has  not  lacked  great  artists,  who  have  created 
for  him,  out  of  their  own  souls,  a  whole  unreal  world.  They 
iiave  conceived  of  themselves  and  displayed  for  his  benefit  a 
great  series  of  magnificent  pictures.  But,  as  a  rule,  reality 
only  provides  them  with  a  point  of  departure  or  a  nucleus, 
not  a  model,  not  even  a  rule  nor  a  bridle.  Order,  proportion, 
and  fitness  cannot  be  attributes  prized  and  sought  after,  in  the 
absence  of  material  examples,  qualified  to  demonstrate  the  value 
of  temperance  and  good  taste.  On  the  one  hand  intensity  of 
life  and  movement,  on  the  other  the  majesty  and  power  of  the 
will,  giving  a  force  to  impulse  or  lightly  curbing  it — this  is 
what  the  Englishman  contemplates  with  interest  in  himself, 
and  which  it  pleases  him  to  find  in  others.  It  is  the  double 
ideal  his  poets  incessantly  pursue.  They  expressed  the  first, 
in  the  time  of  "  Merry  England,"  with  an  illimitable  richness, 
an  immeasurable  profusion,  a  fantasy  creating  haphazard  and 
without  stint.  But,  as  is  natural,  neither  the  accumulated 
wealth  of  the  imagination,  nor  its  wildest  caprices,  have  com- 
pletely succeeded  in  satisfying  the  profoundest  yearnings  of 
man,  or  in  dissipating  the  sadness  which,  from  the  heavy, 
lowering  sky,  seems  to  pour  down  upon  his  heart,  vaguely 
oppressing  it.  The  Englishman  finds  a  surer  and  more  per- 
sonal pleasure  in  studying  and  representing  the  play  of  moral 
forces,  but  even  in  this  he  lacks  the  sense  of  order  and  dis- 
cretion. The  Englishman  is  more  of  a  poet  than  the  Latin, 
because  he  is  more  creative  ;  he  is  less  of  an  artist ;  he  is  rarely 
a  virtuoso.  Less  occupied  in  trying  to  reproduce  visible  Nature 
under  the  veils  in  which  she  is  wrapped,  he  trusts  more  to  his 
invention  ;  less  accustomed  to  appreciate  the  harmony  and 
exactness  of  affinities,  owing  to  their  lack  ot  ordinary  manifes- 
tation, or  in  default  of  leisure  to  analyse  them,  he  cares  little 
that   they    should    control    his  inventions ;    this    results  in   a 


30  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

freedom  and  arbitrariness  in  the  method  of  explanation,  the 
order  of  succession  of  parts,  and  the  choice  of  forms  ;  a 
disdain  for  perspicuity,  eurvthmy,  and  verisimilitude,  which, 
to  classic  minds,  has  the  effect  of  being  contrary  to  Art. 
Something  of  Art  exists,  however,  since  there  is  the  desire  for, 
and  the  pursuit  of  unity  ;  the  poet  pursues  it,  and  finds  it  in 
depths  where  it  escapes  us,  but  he  has  no  scruple  in  breaking 
and  confusing,  time  after  time,  the  external  unity  which  holds 
us  in  thrall.  Everything  in  his  case  comes  from  within.  The 
imagination — an  imagination  without  master  or  model — has 
been  compelled  to  project  outwardly  an  entire  world  of  its 
own  creation,  where  man  alone  is  what  it  chooses  to  behold 
and  demonstrate,  where  it  pursues  no  other  ideal  than  the 
tumultuous  expression  of  force  and  life,  where  it  seeks  and 
experiences  the  calm  of  the  sea,  quivering  with  subsiding 
waves,  which  has  been  stilled  by  a  sign  from  the  sovereign 
will. 

The  history  of  the  various  branches  of  literature  and  all 
other  departments  of  human  thought — the  fine  arts,  exact 
sciences,  moral  sciences,  philosophy,  religion — afford  us  con- 
clusive proof  of  this  theory.  The  sensibility  and  thought 
displayed  therein  have  grown  up  under  the  strict  discipline 
of  action.  Certainly,  nearly  every  direction  in  which  the 
understanding  and  the  imagination  can  be  exercised  and  ex- 
panded have  been  represented  in  England  by  great  examples  ; 
but  the  result  of  a  happy  chance  or  the  energetic  effort  of 
individual  genius,  can  easily  be  distinguished  from  the  natural 
and  spontaneous  production  of  the  national  genius.  Con- 
sidered in  the  whole  course  of  its  history,  English  literature 
is  certainly  one  of  the  most  admirable,  opulent  and  varied  in 
Europe,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  kind  of  work  in 
which  it  excels,  and  the  sort  of  subjects  towards  which  a 
secret  instinct  continually  impels  it.  Its  vocation  is  to  depict 
either  the  concentrated  tension  of  the  power  of  the  will,  or  the 
vigorous   display  of  human   activity.      It  only  demands  a  vast 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITSELF  31 

and  picturesque  arena  in  the  outward  and  visible  world. 
Shakespeare  pictures  the  human  will  :  he  represents  it  in 
manifestations  of  scornful  and  sudden  spontaneity,  troubled  by 
visions,  struggling  with  overwhelming  influences,  or  vanquished 
by  a  blind  fatality.  Milton  uplifts  against  God  the  "un- 
conquerable will  "  of  his  Satan.  It  is  the  concentrated  pathos 
of  moral  struggles  which  a  Currer  Bell,  a  George  Eliot,  and  a 
Mrs.  Gaslcell  endow  with  a  powerful  reality  founded  on  life. 
On  the  first  plane,  in  all  these  creations,  we  meet  the  will, 
considered  in  its  passionate  or  rational  inception,  its  evolution 
and  phases,  its  incentives  and  mainspring,  its  perturbations  and 
errors,  its  qualifications  and  effects.  A  law  has  recently  been 
discovered  in  chemistry  by  which,  several  bodies  being  present 
and  several  different  combinations  possible,  the  combination 
produced  is  that  which  entails  the  greatest  expenditure  of  heat. 
An  analogous  formula  might  be  applied  to  the  English,  to  the 
effect  that,  in  every  case,  the  creation  of  the  mind — or  the 
manner  of  regarding  it — which  finds  in  them  the  strongest 
affinity — is  that  most  qualified  to  develop  and  stimulate  human 
activity  and  render  it  effective. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    IDEAL    IN    ITS    APPLICATIONS 

I. — Criticism  and  History.      The  Drama  and  the  Novel. 

Another  characteristic,  emanating  from  a  different  psycho- 
logical cause,  is  strikingly  apparent  in  criticism  and  history. 
Owing  to  the  feebleness  and  aridity  of  their  faculty  of  abstrac- 
tion, the  English  deal  with  these  subjects  from  a  singularly 
narrow  and  partial  point  of  view.  Take,  for  example,  the 
work  of  Buckle,  and  the  contrast  of  its  immense  erudition  and 
prodigious  mass  of  reading  matter  with  the  unique  and 
inferential  thesis  they  serve  to  establish.  As  a  rule,  English 
historians  see,  beyond  the  pictures  they  paint,  the  image  of 
contemporary  interests,  and,  too  often,  look  upon  it  as  a  part 
of  them.  This,  in  different  ways,  is  the  case  with  Grote, 
Macaulay,  Freeman,  and  Froude.  They  have  neither  the 
temptation  nor  the  ability  to  emerge  from  their  country  and 
their  times  for  the  pure  pleasure  of  contemplation  and  know- 
ledge. They  do  not  know  how  to  create  an  alibi  in  the 
manner  of  the  true  historian.  They  are  always  more  or  less 
chained  to  their  soil  and  captives  of  the  present. 

If  we  want  an  even  more  forcible  and  perfect  example  of  the 
superior  gifts  and  peculiar  weaknesses  of  the  English  genius, 
we  must  consider  the  two  indubitably  most  original  sections  of 
English  literature  :  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  the  novel  in  the  nineteenth  century.  These  two 
groups  of  works   present  a  contrast  to  the  literary  productions 

32 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS       33 

of  the  Latin  races,  in  that,  wise  disposition  of  material,  exact 
placing  of  relative  parts,  methodical  sequence  and  easily  grasped 
unity,  are  merits  less  esteemed  than  vigour  and  glow,  life  and 
breadth.  A  play  of  Shakespeare's  is  a  world  in  itself,  and  yet 
at  first  sight  it  seems  a  chaos  ;  because  parts  of  it  are  hewn  out 
of  a  complex  reality  ;  because  the  unity  introduced  into  it  by 
the  opposing  individualities  of  the  principal  characters  is  more 
or  less  broken  by  the  number  of  secondary  personages,  repeated 
shiftings  of  the  scene,  and  disconcerting  discrepancies  of  tone 
and  style.  No  drama  exists  which  depends  more  on  the 
imagination  of  the  public,  nor  introduces  it  with  less  prepara- 
tion into  the  presence  of  infinitely  varied  situations.  The 
public  was  neither  disturbed  nor  offended  by  the  incessant 
strain  put  upon  them.  Like  the  poet  himself,  in  the  intensity 
of  the  life,  the  force  of  the  passions,  and  the  individual  reality 
of  the  characters,  they  saw  the  miracle  of  art  ;  like  him,  they 
disported  themselves  in  time  and  space.  No  one  is  more 
realistic  than  Shakespeare  in  depicting  souls,  and  yet  less 
careful  of  the  probability  of  external  circumstances  ;  farther 
from  abstract  types,  and  yet  more  idealistic  and  even  visionary. 
Let  us  consider  how  the  tendency  of  the  poet,  in  proportion 
with  the  development  of  his  genius,  is  to  rid  himself  of  all 
restrictions.  This  is  evident  even  in  his  prosody.  In  his 
second  manner  he  adopts  the  blank  verse  of  Marlowe  ;  he  no 
longer  employs  rhyme,  except  for  the  production  of  a  certain 
effect  ;  he  breaks  the  rhythm  and  varies  it  to  such  an  extent 
that  his  poetry  has  the  same  varieties  of  tone  as  harmonious 
prose ;  he  carries  on  his  meaning  from  stanza  to  stanza, 
stopping  short  in  a  verse  when  other  characters  interrupt,  and 
not  completing  it,  save  by  a  compensatory  syllable  at  the  end  ; 
playing  as  he  pleases  with  accepted  forms.  Meanwhile  the 
analytic  phrase  and  elegant  turn  of  the  sentence,  borrowed 
from  the  Latin,  become  contracted  and  broken.  The  pre- 
decessors of  the  poet  used  tliem  out  of  all  measure  and  to 
satiety  ;  he   renounced   them.     Outbursts  and   sudden  gusts  of 

D 


34  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

passion,  and  the  imperious  concentration  of  the  will,  cannot  be 
adapted  to  them  ;  they  compress  language  into  synthetical 
expressions.  "  In  conversing  with  the  meanest  of  the 
Lacedemonians,"  said  Socrates,  "he  appears  at  first  awkward 
in  speech,  but  suddenly  flings  into  the  conversation  a  note- 
worthy, swift  phrase,  mustering  all  his  forces,  like  a  warrior 
hurling  his  javelin." 

The  two  races  born  and  bred  for  action,  the  English  and 
the  Spartan,  are  recognisable  in  this  description. 

After  the  death  of  Shakespeare  we  witness  a  phenomenon 
unparalleled  in  history.  Dramatic  art,  which  had  hitherto 
shown  itself  so  vigorous,  so  free  in  its  choice  of  subjects,  so 
fruitful  in  the  invention  of  poetic  forms,  began  to  wither  and 
dry  up,  gradually  losing  its  vital  force  and  hold  on  the 
public  mind,  until  finally  it  became  incapable  of  aught  save 
clumsy  imitations,  and  imperfectly  conceived  adaptations  of 
our  popular  pieces  :  proof  positive  of  its  utter  sterility.  But 
meanwhile  another  form  of  literary  expression,  the  novel, 
began  to  develop  marvellously.  It  was  as  if  by  the  side  of  a 
branch  that  was  dead  another  branch  had  grown,  covered  with 
flowers  and  fruit :  the  immense  quantity  of  sap  ebbing  from 
the  literature  of  the  drama,  flowed  into  the  novel,  and  burst 
out  into  luxuriant  foliation. 

Considered  merely  as  a  form  of  the  work  of  art,  the  novel  is 
indeed  the  successor  of  Shakespeare's  plays  ;  it  reproduces  their 
general  tendencies,  and  external  effects.  In  the  most  finished 
specimens  of  this  class  a  Frenchman  is  struck,  not  only  by  the 
large  number  of  personages,  but  also  by  the  frequency  and 
abruptness  with  which  the  narrative  is  interrupted  and  broken 

'  Another  analogy  :  the  literary  tendency  of  which  I  have  spoken  was 
greatly  strengthened  by  the  immense  diffusion  of  the  Old  Testament  and 
universal  Biblical  education.  But  the  Bible  has  always  been  popular 
because  the  Hebraic  imagination,  with  its  profusion  of  allegory,  the 
profundity  of  its  thoughts,  the  weakness  of  its  dialectic,  its  brusque 
ejaculations,  belongs  to  the  same  order  as  the  English  imagination.  There 
is  a  congenital  conformity  of  some  sort  between  the  two  geniuses. 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      35 

off,  and  the  reader  transported  from  one  place  to  another  ;  he 
is  no  sooner  placed  in  communication  with  one  set  of  figures, 
than  a  change  of  scene  causes  them  to  disappear  and  introduces 
new  characters  surrounded  by  different  circumstances.  The 
English  novelist  is  quite  at  ease  among  this  extraordinary 
medley  of  types  and  incidents  ;  he  is  like  Shakespeare  fronting 
Ills  public ;  he  does  not  feel  that  he  demands  too  great  an  effort 
on  the  part  of  the  reader  whom  he  whirls  along  with  him. 

This  only  applies  to  the  external,  general,  and  superficial 
construction  of  the  work  of  art.  If  we  go  deeper  into  the 
matter,  we  shall  recognise  that  the  ideal  of  the  English  novel 
is  to  represent  real  life  in  all  its  bearings  and  infinite  diversity. 
In  this  our  French  novels  differ  in  a  striking  degree  from 
English  ones.  In  France  our  best  novelists  confine  them- 
selves to  placing  in  full  relief  two  or  three  principal  characters 
who  are  surrounded  by  others  in  diminishing  degrees  of  impor- 
tance, until  certain  of  them  have  but  one  word  to  say,  and  the 
harmony  would  be  marred  if  they  uttered  two.  This  seems 
to  us  the  fundamental  principle,  the  sign  of  the  true  work  or 
art.  We  make  these  two  or  three  essential  figures  move, 
encounter  and  run  foul  of  one  another,  until  a  final  crisis,  to 
lead  up  to  which,  in  the  most  natural  manner  in  the  world,  the 
novelist  employs  his  whole  art  ;  and  the  denouement  of  this 
crisis  leaves  us  with  exactly  the  same  impression  as  we  experi- 
ence after  witnessing  the  fifth  act  in  one  of  our  plays.  The 
amount  of  character  which  we  develop  in  eacli  personage 
varies  in  proportion  with  what  is  necessary  to  lead  up  to  the 
crisis,  or  what  will  serve  to  render  them  more  interesting  and 
truly  pathetic.  The  crisis,  therefore,  limits  the  development 
of  character.  Nearly  all  our  novels  are  uniformly  constructed 
on  this  plan,  which  Taine  declared  to  be  classic  ;  life  is 
thereby  simplified  to  the  point  of  impoverishment,  and  the 
supreme  desire  for  clearness  and  harmony  which  possesses  us 
makes  us  indulgent  spectators,  almost  accessories,  of  this 
elevated  conception  of  Art,  so  strong  in  its  unity. 


36  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

In  England  no  one  troubles  to  place  the  characters  under 
any  kind  of  hierarchy,  making  some  stand  out  in  strong  relief 
and  throwing  others  into  the  shade.  The  Englishman  paints 
all  the  figures,  if  not  with  the  same  breadth,  at  least  with  a 
care,  attention,  and  insistence  which  is  unnecessary  for  the 
secondary  characters.  Each  appears  to  have  an  equal  claim  on 
the  interest  of  the  reader,  because  each  has  an  equal  share 
in  the  intense  life  with  which  the  work  is  deeply  imbued. 
Further,  in  English  novels  there  is  no  unique  crisis  towards 
which  all  the  characters  insensibly  drift,  and  to  which  they  are 
subordinated.  As  a  matter  of  principle  the  Englishman  does 
not  demand  dramatic  unity  in  a  novel ;  his  chief  desire  is  to  be 
presented  with  successive  glimpses  of  real  life,  in  all  their  truth 
and  profundity.  When  the  author  has  finished  unrolling  his 
pictures,  the  reader  does  not  think  of  reproaching  him  for 
having  produced  a  work  which  has,  as  it  were,  several  central 
groups  of  characters  ;  he  would  accuse  himself  of  pedantry  if 
he  bargained  for  his  own  pleasure.  With  the  English  novelist 
this  results  in  a  very  free  and  independent  style  of  narration. 
He  does  not  submit  to  the  restriction  of  a  particular  unity  of 
style  or  conformity  to  a  set  design  ;  it  would  weary  and  fetter 
him  in  his  conception  of  the  subject  and  impoverish  his  style. 
He  is  not  disturbed  and  preoccupied  with  a  crisis  which  he 
cannot  bring  to  a  head.  He  does  not  feel  compelled  to  deter- 
mine the  due  importance  of  each  figure  and  its  claim  on 
the  attention  of  the  reader  in  the  part  which  it  is  called  upon 
to  play  in  the  crisis.  There  are  few  concise  pictures  in 
English  novels  :  what  they  convey  is  an  impression  of  growth 
and  expansion  by  reason  of  the  intensity  of  life  which  pervades 
them. 

2. — The  Fine  Arts. 

It  is  remarkable  that  neither  painting,  in  which  the  Dutch 
have  excelled  to  the  same  extent  as  the  English,  nor  music,  in 
which   the   Germans,   their    fellows,   have   incontestably   the 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      37 

mastery,  nor  architecture,  in  spite  of  the  admirable  models  left 
them  by  the  conquering  Normans,  nor,  finally,  sculpture,  has 
had  any  original  efflorescence  in  England.  This  is  explained 
by  the  fact  that  all  these  arts  have  grown  up  under  the  jealous 
discipline  of  action,  which  at  first  thwarted  or  hindered  their 
development,  and  afterwards  supplied  the  artist  with  a  public 
which  was  a  slave  to  the  same  necessity  for  action  and  incapable 
of  throwing  off  its  fetters  for  the  purpose  of  admiring  freely. 
But  here  a  more  particular  and  deeper  cause  intervened,  which, 
as  it  were,  sterilised  all  the  arts  of  design.  Nature  in  England 
presents  none  of  the  conditions  which  generate  a  great  art.  It 
does  not  surround  man  with  an  atmospheric  environment 
in  which  every  object  is  visible,  each  in  its  proper  place,  where 
hues  are  infinite,  and  diminutions  of  light  and  shade  imper- 
ceptible, where  the  whole  chromatic  scale  is  illuminated  by  a 
brilliant  light,  and  is  visible  and  beautiful  even  in  the  far 
distance.  The  Englishman  mostly  sees  nature  through  fog  or 
mist  ;  objects  disappear  under  this  veil,  or  rather  their  outlines 
seem  confused  and  blurred  ;  their  colouring  becomes  dull ;  the 
delicate  tints  have  not  sufficient  vibration  and  brilliancy  to 
burst  through  the  cloud  and  appeal  to  the  eyes.  The  violent 
colours  only — red  and  green,  for  instance — can  triumph  over  the 
thickness  of  the  veils.  The  Englishman  is  therefore  educated, 
even  by  circumstances,  to  comprehend  Art  imperfectly,  or  at 
least  to  interpret  it  quite  differently,  for  instance,  from  an 
Italian.  He  gets  little  from  the  sterile  nature  surrounding 
him,  and  either  ignores  his  imperfect  model,  filling  up  with  the 
creationsof  his  imagination  the  blanks  and  hiatuses  that  a  simple 
copy  would  leave  in  his  picture,  or  else  essays  a  literal  imitation 
which  is  as  remote  from  nature  as  the  types  he  evolves  in  his 
own  imagination  ;  for  it  is  purely  abstract  and  scientific,  and 
in  no  degree  represents  what  would  be  seen  by  a  normal  and 
natural  vision.  The  designer  of  a  plate  for  a  manual  of  botany, 
minutely  representing  the  five  petals,  the  three  stamens  with 
the  anthers,  &c.,  is  he  not  as  far  from  the  picturesque  reality  as 


38  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  man  who  dreams  of  a  chimerical  plant,  the  model  for  which 
exists  only  in  his  imagination  ? 

Liberty  in  fantasy,  or  servility  in  imitation,  are  the  two 
extremes  between  which  art  oscillated  in  the  hands  of  the  painters 
who  adorned  the  end  of  the  last  century.  Reynolds  and  Gains- 
borough were  only  isolated  personalities,  without  masters  or 
pupils  ;  Rossetti,  Watts,  and  Burne-Jones  were  the  masters  of 
a  powerful  and  self-confident  school  whose  articles  of  belief 
were  drawn  up  by  Ruskin.  This  is  the  only  true  English 
school  of  which  history  makes  mention,  the  first  in  date  of 
time  in  which  the  national  genius  can  be  recognised  and 
grasped.  Ford  Madox  Brown,  who  was  the  originator  of  the 
pre-Raphaelite  and  realistic  style,  visited  Paris  in  1844.  He 
loudly  proclaimed  that  everything  he  saw  there  inspired  him 
with  an  invincible  repugnance,  and  it  was  this  absolutely 
negative  sentiment  which  decided  him  to  create  a  new  art. 
Ford  Madox  Brown  assuredly  knew  what  he  did  not  want, 
viz.,  conventional  posing,  traditional  mixing  of  colours,  all  the 
characteristics  of  academic  Art ;  he  believed  he  knew  what  he 
did  want,  viz.,  a  return  to  nature.  But  what  could  these 
words  convey  to  a  race  whose  eyes  had  been  accustomed  for 
centuries  to  see  every  object  unsubstantial  and  unrelieved, 
blurred  and  discoloured  by  the  mist  ;  whose  imagination  was 
wearied  with  a  vain  search  in  the  barren  reality  of  nature  for 
the  wealth  essential  in  a  picture ;  whose  taste,  habituated  to  a 
single  sensation,  was  incapable  of  receiving  several  at  a  time, 
harmonising  and  blending  them  in  a  happy  and  plastic  unity  ; 
whose  art  had  not  discovered  the  secret  of  separating  parts  by 
innumerable  delicate  shades,  nor  of  making  each  take  its  proper 
place  in  the  picture  ?  The  words  of  Ford  Madox  Brown 
were,  fundamentally,  only  an  abstract  and  sententious  formula  ; 
his  art  bears  strong  evidence  of  this  :  it  wavered  incessantly 
between  a  painstaking  copy  or  the  living  model  and  an 
entirely  imaginative  interpretation  of  its  subject ;  it  sought 
Nature  only  to  lose  her,  shaking  off  all  traditional  fetters  the 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      39 

better  to  pursue  her  ;  and  finding,  at  the  end  of  the  quest,  that 
instead  of  the  Nature  it  had  followed,  a  mere  fiction  was  within 
its  grasp. 

It  is  another  toiccn  of  the  same  incapacity  that  the  painters 
of  the  pre-Raphaelite  school  were  as  a  rule  either  poets,  savants, 
or  writers,  and  did  not  drop  their  profession  when  they  took  up 
the  brush.  They  could  not  be  simply  and  solely  artists  ;  in 
order  that  Art  might  flower,  it  had  to  be  transplanted  to  a 
different  soil  and  grow  up  in  a  strange  land  before  entering  on 
its  own  inheritance.  English  Art  was  at  first  entirely  a  literary 
art,  a  poetry  which  employed  form  and  colour  for  its  own  satis- 
faction, making  use  at  the  same  time,  with  more  or  less 
freedom,  of  other  mediums  proper  to  poetry. 

Are  proofs  required  ?  English  painting  is  essentially  inten- 
tionist,  /.(?.,  it  pursues  an  end  other  than  that  of  mere  painting. 
The  operation  of  painting  must  be  coerced  into  attaining  this 
end  and  fulfilling  this  intention.  Art  in  England,  therefore, 
has  not  the  ease  and  happy  freedom  which  characterise  it  when 
it  is  its  own  master  and  has  only  itself  to  satisfy  ;  this  is  a  first 
and  obvious  defect.  Further,  every  means  by  which  it  can 
arrive  at  the  desired  end  is  considered  worthy,  i.e.^  an  attempt 
would  not  be  made  to  attain  this  end  by  the  mere  general  effect 
of  a  landscape  or  the  physiognomies  of  the  various  figures  ;  but 
it  would  also  be  suggested  by  the  material  objects  with  which 
the  idea  of  the  desired  end  was  habitually  connected  ;  in  other 
words,  by  symbols.  Painting  in  such  case  is  therefore  not 
only  intcntionist,  but  symbolic.  "All  great  art  is  didactic," 
cried  Ruskin,  the  prophet  of  the  new  faith  ;  by  which  he 
meant  that  a  good  picture  should  not  only  represent,  but 
demonstrate  something,  that  it  should  have  not  only  a  subject, 
but  an  object,  and  that  that  object,  instead  of  being  one 
with  the  outlines  and  the  colours,  should  be  distinct  from  them, 
and  dominate  them  from  the  standpoint  of  a  philosophical 
conception. 

Further  proof  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  otiicr  cluuacter- 


40  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

istics  of  the  work  of  art.  For  instance,  there  is  no  balance  in 
contemporary  English  painting,  nothing  which  approaches  the 
centralisation  of  effects.  The  figures  may  be  grouped  in  one 
corner,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  canvas  empty.  If  thereby  the 
idea  which  the  painter  has  in  his  mind  appears  with  greater 
distinctness,  of  what  has  the  spectator  to  complain  ?  Similarly, 
the  Englishman  does  not  hesitate  to  place  discordant  colours  in 
juxtaposition  ;  he  displays  them  and  contrasts  them  with  bold 
touches,  without  taking  into  consideration  hierarchy  and  the 
blending  of  tints.  This  strife  of  colours,  which  delights  the 
eye  unaccustomed  to  such  striking  tones,  destroys  the  unity  of 
the  picture  ;  but  it  does  not  destroy  the  unity  of  the  idea  that 
the  picture  is  intended  to  convey.  In  the  same  way  the 
canvasses  are  usually  longer  or  shorter  on  one  side  of  the  line 
of  the  horizon  than  the  other ;  the  Englishman  does  not 
endeavour  to  reproduce  the  natural  environment  of  which  the 
figure  is  the  centre,  to  make  it  proportionate  with  the  room  in 
which  it  stands,  or  with  the  landscape  in  which  it  seems  some- 
times lost  ;  he  suppresses  the  actuality  of  the  environment, 
depicting  above  the  head  of  his  figures  little  of  the  cloudy  sky 
or  ornamental  ceiling  which  would  furnish  a  sentimental  or 
magnificent  accessory  to  the  scene  ;  he  multiplies  his  figures, 
taken  out  of  their  natural  setting  ;  he  groups  them  together, 
huddles  them  one  against  the  other,  and  crowds  them  into  a 
narrow  space  ;  all  the  figures  are  animated,  all  the  faces  speak  ; 
each  plays  his  part  in  one  of  tiie  three  or  four  distinct  actions 
which  divide  the  attention  of  the  spectator,  for  the  Englishman 
freely  composes  his  picture  of  as  many  separate  parts  as  he 
pleases  ;  he  only  requires  that  they  shall  be  interesting,  he  feels 
under  no  compulsion  to  make  a  choice  among  them. 

Is  it  necessary  to  mention  a  final  trait  ?  Ruskin,  without 
taking  into  consideration  the  efi^cct  of  the  whole,  made  it  a 
rule  that  each  flower,  or  butterfly,  should  be  exactly  copied  in 
such  a  way  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  what  it  was,  nor 
even  as  to  the  particular  species  to  which  the  object  belonged. 


THE  IDEAL  IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      41 

"  It  is,"  he  said  magnificently,  "  the  homage  due  to  the 
Creator."  But  who  cannot  see  where  this  rule  is  harmful 
to  the  painter  ?  It  might  be  to  his  interest  to  disguise  the 
individuality  of  the  plant  or  the  insect,  by  modifying  or  slurring 
over  certain  parts,  so  that  they  should  only  produce  in  the 
whole  the  impression  he  has  proportioned  out  to  them. 

I  will  say  no  more  with  regard  to  this  school,  which  was 
one  of  the  glories  of  England  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
The  great  artists  who  adorned  it  made  themselves  remark- 
able by  the  profundity  of  their  conceptions,  the  novelty  of 
their  posing,  and  the  singularly  original  beauty  of  the  human 
form  in  the  figures  which  they  multiplied.  But  all  these 
elements  of  a  great  art  lacked  the  attraction  and  magnetism 
which  would  bind  them  together,  form  them  into  groups,  and 
make  them  one  with  surrounding  nature.  The  grandeur  of 
their  conceptions  rendered  these  poets  careless  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  truly  pictorial  ideas,  which  are  naturally  rendered 
by  form  and  colour,  and  other  ideas  which  can  only  be  repre- 
sented in  a  picture  by  symbols  and  delicate  allusions.  Their 
pictures  are  lacking  in  the  profound  unity  of  matter  and  idea. 
At  first  they  conceived  matter  and  idea  apart,  and  though 
afterwards  they  tried  to  bring  them  together  with  the  aid  of 
unusual  talent,  they  could  never  make  them  seem  closely 
united. I 

3. — Philosophy.     Science.     Religion. 

English  philosophers  have  been  distinguished  from  the  very 
first  by  a  trait  peculiar  to  themselves  :  they  have  no  inclina- 
tion nor  capacity  for  metaphysics.  In  the  course  of  two  and 
a  half  centuries  there  have  only  been  three  serious  English 
metaphysicians — viz.,  Hobbes,  Locke,^  and  Spencer.  No  philo- 
sopher has  contented  himself  with  pure  speculation.  Most  of 
them — Hobbes,  Locke,  the  two  Mills,  Spencer — have  found  it 

'  K.  dc  la  Si/ciannc,  La  pciutnrc  air^lnisc  coiilciupoitjiiic. 
-  Berkeley  belonged  to  Ireland  and  Hume  to  Scotland. 


42  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

interesting  to  follow  out  their  principles  in  politics  and  to 
utilise  their  deductions  in  the  service  of  the  government  of 
their  country  ;  they  tried  to  excuse  their  excursions  into  the 
abstract  by  demonstrating  that  there  was  a  practical  use  in 
soaring  above  the  regions  of  common  sense  for  their  postu- 
lates. It  is  possible  to  soar  above  and  then  descend  towards 
the  earth,  as  these  great  thinkers  have  made  perfectly  clear  by 
their  anxiety  or  their  haste  to  return  to  the  objects  which  have 
a  surer  interest  for  their  contemporaries.  It  is  remarkable, 
moreover,  that  the  one  great  philosophical  enthusiasm  which 
possessed  England  during  the  course  of  the  last  century  had 
for  its  object  the  very  man  who  had  most  completely  shaken 
off  metaphysical  absorption,  Auguste  Comte.  In  England, 
far  more  than  in  his  own  country,  Auguste  Comte  found 
bigoted  disciples,  and  admirers  sufficiently  enthusiastic  to  pen- 
sion him  in  his  distress.  Even  now  the  Positivist  doctrine, 
almost  forgotten  in  France,  awakes  a  living  faith  like  a  religious 
enthusiasm  in  more  than  one  English  heart.  The  care  John 
Stuart  Mill  took  to  distinguish  himself  on  certain  points  from 
Auguste  Comte,  permits  us  to  conjecture  that  at  a  certain  period, 
hke  a  dutiful  pupil,  he  imbibed  most  of  the  master's  inspirations. 
His  correspondence,  recently  published,  confirms  this  supposi- 
tion. Herbert  Spencer  and  Bain  have  drawn  largely  from  the 
same  source.  A  philosophy  like  Positivism,  which,  unlike 
any  other,  professes  to  supersede  metaphysics,  was  like  a 
revelation  to  the  English  ;  it  responded  so  perfectly,  so  com- 
pletely to  their  secret  and  profound  desires,  to  those  blind 
instincts  which  supply  man  with  the  private  reasons  for  his 
predilections.  The  posthumous  adoption  of  Comte's  ideas 
in  England,  and  the  immense  influence  they  still  exercise 
in  this  country,  are  sure  proofs  of  the  feeble  capacity  of 
the  English  for  metaphysical  speculation  and  of  their  joy  at 
being  delivered  from  it  by  the  authority  of  philosophy  itself. 
In  experimental  psychology  the  Englishman  is  incontestably 
first.     There    is    no    experimental    psychology   in    Italy ;   the 


THE  IDEAL  IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      43 

people  are  too  frivolous,  too  imaginative.  Occupied  with 
the  outer  world,  they  have  no  time  to  analyse  and  under- 
stand the  inner.  In  France  this  psychology  is  three-quarters 
logic.  Accumulated  facts,  which  make  of  it  a  different  thing, 
are  distasteful  to  us  ;  they  incline  towards  the  indefinite,  and 
lend  themselves  to  too  many  exceptions.  We  want  definite 
divisions,  brief,  clear  formulas.  "Germany,  who  can  adapt 
herself  to  everything,  even  to  experimental  psychology,  finds 
her  true  sphere  in,  and  inclination  towards,  metaphysics."  ^ 
Experimental  psychology,  on  the  other  hand,  finds  its  proper 
place  in  England  ;  it  proceeds  from  the  same  fundamental 
tendency  as  spiritual  poetry  and  the  novel.  I  mean  the  inclina- 
tion towards  the  inner  life,  the  frequent  retreat  into  itself 
which  is  one  of  the  most  distinguishing  traits  of  the  British 
character. 

So  much  for  the  development,  obviously  unequal,  of  the 
different  branches  of  philosophy.  Let  us  now  consider  the 
ideas  themselves,  and  find  out  their  individual  significance. 
In  this  connection  is  it  not  curious  that  four  of  the  greatest 
thinkers  in  England  have  all  agreed  in  disputing  the  trans- 
cendent character  either  of  innate  ideas  or  of  a  priori  synthetic 
ideas  ?  The  contingent  and  the  relative  alone  found  access  to 
their  city  of  philosophy.  Locke  in  his  time  combated  with  sin- 
gular vivacity  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas  professed  by  Leibnitz  ; 
James  Mill,  pure  logician  as  he  was,  appears  to  ignore  the 
importance  of  the  question.  He  limits  himself  to  one  short 
chapter,  entitled  "Some  Names  which  require  a  Particular 
Explanation,  Time,  Motion,  &c."  John  Stuart  Mill  maintained 
in  his  system  that  everything  is  the  result  of  experience.  Our 
belief  in  the  absolute  is  an  illusion  ;  it  is  simply  the  fre- 
quency or  incessant  repetition  of  two  successive  facts  which 
leads  us  to  expect,  with  a  sort  of  certainty,  the  second  with 
the  first,  and  gives  us  the  impression  of  a  necessity  which  links 
them  together.  Herbert  Spencer  explains  in  the  same  hap- 
'  Th.  Ribot,  Psychologic  aiiglaisc. 


44  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

hazard  way  the  ideas  of  time  and  space.  The  two  latter 
philosophers,  and  also  Bentham,  approach  one  another  in 
their  system  of  ethics.  They  can  be  characterised  by  the 
same  word  ;  they  are  all  utilitarians.  The  origin  of  every 
moral  idea  is,  according  to  them,  a  conception  founded  on 
experience.  This  conception,  in  the  system  of  the  last-named 
philosopher,  is  likened  to  a  slow  deposit,  transmitted  by  heredity, 
and  enveloped  in  the  prestige  of  custom  and  tradition.  It  is  a 
fact  that  neither  the  absolute  nor  the  transcendent  have  ever 
really  found  a  place  in  this  purely  contingent  philosophy. 

Is  a  final  characteristic  required  to  show  the  native  tendency 
of  the  English  mind  ?  It  will  be  sufficient  to  examine 
the  point  of  view  of  the  most  subtle  thinkers  in  regard 
to  God,  a  Creator,  Providence.  Huxley  said  somewhere 
that  though  offensive  and  coarse  atheism  shocks  the  English, 
agnosticism,  a  mild  atheism  which  clings  to  forms,  neither 
offends  nor  convinces  them.  A  single  and  very  simple  ob- 
jection upsets  this  doctrine  and  its  arguments.  "It  is  not 
practical,  it  has  no  present  application  ;  we  are  pledged,  the 
necessities  of  life  concern  and  occupy  us  ;  we  have  not  leisure 
to  change  the  habits  of  our  mind,  nor  remove  the  foundations 
of  our  moral  instincts."  The  majority  of  the  English  are 
unconscious  of  tliis  little  inward  monologue,  their  faith  is 
protected  by  a  sort  of  cant  which  cannot  be  analysed  nor 
abruptly  disjjlaced.  Moreover,  the  two  thinkers,  who  in 
France  would  have  been  professed  atheists,  have  been  par- 
ticularly careful  to  avoid  disturbing  the  traditional  beliefs  of 
the  public  to  whom  they  address  their  writings  in  the  hope 
that  they  will  be  read  to  the  end.  John  Stuart  Mill  inter- 
prets his  positivism  in  such  a  manner  that  the  question  of  the 
spiritual  world,  though  eliminated  from  science,  is  still  a  sub- 
ject of  legitimate  speculation  to  those  who  have  a  taste  that 
way.  Mill  reproached  Auguste  Comte  for  not  leaving  the 
question  open.  He  did  not  abjure  metaphysics,  he  considered 
it  a  matter  of  personal  feeling,  and  did  not  cavil  at  the  process 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      45 

of  reasoning  which  every  individual  is  at  liberty  to  apply  to  it. 
He  believed  he  could  conciliate  the  majority  of  his  com- 
patriots by  this  concession,  and  it  sufficed,  indeed,  to  prevent 
the  prohibition  which  would  certainly  have  been  attached  to 
his  books  if  he  had  frankly  published  his  true  thouo;hts.  Still 
more  characteristic  was  the  manner  in  which  Herbert  Spencer 
treated  the  idea  of  God  when  he  encountered  it  on  the  summit 
of  his  metaphysics.  He  endeavoured,  with  characteristic  insis- 
tence, to  show  that  the  God  of  evolution  is  infinitely  superior 
to  the  mechanical  God  of  Paley.  P'urther,  did  he  not  endeavour 
to  make  his  Unknowable  a  Being,  substantial,  active,  and 
creative,  of  which  it  cannot  be  said  that  it  does  not  possess 
the  intellectual  and  sensible  attributes  of  God,  because  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said  of  it,  and  of  which  the  philosopher  himself, 
however,  ventured  to  say  that  what  is  to  be  found  in  it  is  not 
less  than  personality,  but  more  than  personality  ?  It  was  a 
strange  necessity  which  compelled  him  to  set  up,  not  only  for 
himself  but  for  others,  an  absolute,  substantial,  and  more  or 
less  individualised  Being,  which  could  be  adored,  and  to  which 
religious  people  might  raise  temples  and  altars. 

The  attitude  of  the  English  towards  the  mathematical, 
physical,  and  biological  sciences  was,  until  i860,  characterised 
by  indifference,  and  even  a  sort  of  hostile  disdain.  The 
physical  and  biological  sciences  were  generally  considered 
likely  to  lead  the  mind  to  anti-religious  conclusions,  and  were 
not  approached  without  trembling.  It  is  remarkable  that, 
until  the  middle  of  the  century,  there  were  in  the  universi- 
ties no  courses  of  lectures  on  these  subjects,  so  successfully 
cultivated  in  Germany  and  France.  When  the  State  or 
private  individuals  judged  it  proper  to  organise  the  lacking 
instruction  they  did  not  usually  collect  more  than  three  or 
four  candidates.  If  all  the  men  were  passed  in  review  who, 
during  the  last  hundred  years,  had  distinguished  themselves  in 
the  sciences,  we  should  be  surprised  to  see  how  manv  of  tliem 
had  obtained  their  knowledge  outside  the  schools,  and  how  few 


46  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

had  followed  a  regular  course  of  study  in  the  sciences  in  which 
afterwards  they  made  their  mark.  Where  could  they  find 
such  a  course  ?  Nothing  of  the  kind  existed  in  England. 
It  was  just  chance  which,  seconded  by  natural  talent,  indi- 
cated to  them  the  department  of  science  in  which  they  would 
excel.  They  were  first  attracted  by  a  particular  point  of  view 
which  seemed  unusual,  and  perhaps  a  little  narrow,  and,  follow- 
ing it  up,  they  expanded  it  by  dint  of  study  and  research  ; 
they  did  not  approach  science  in  her  commonplace  and  wider 
aspect,  like  our  pupils  when  a  classical  treatise  or  manual  is 
placed  in  their  hands.  Their  intelligence  did  not  command 
the  superficial  and  encyclopaedic  information  which  is  a  means 
of  strength,  by  reason  of  the  numberless  correspondences  of 
which  it  gives  an  idea,  and  a  weakness,  by  reason  of  the  indefi- 
niteness  and  incompleteness  of  that  idea.  In  accordance  with 
their  requirements,  they  carefully  grouped  the  other  sciences 
or  sections  of  science  round  the  one  they  had  chosen,  and 
from  out  a  deep  experience,  undisturbed  by  the  words  of  a 
master,  they  brought  forth  singular  and  unexpected  Hnks  to 
connect  these  fragments  of  knowledge  together.  Faraday, 
Huxley,  Tyndall,  Darwin,  and  Spencer  began  in  this  way, 
and  the  conditions  under  which  science  appeared  to  them 
stamped  all  their  work  with  a  profoundly  original  character. 
I  have  used  the  word  "disdain."  For  the  bulk  of  the 
nation  science,  considered  as  science,  did  not  exist ;  it  was 
valued  merely  on  account  of  its  use  to  the  engineer,  the 
doctor,  &c.,  in  the  course  of  their  practical  work  ;  and  for  that 
reason  alone  was  it  esteemed  by  practical  minds.  It  would 
have  been  considered  a  slur  and  a  grave  error  of  judgment  to 
introduce  into  the  title  of  a  practical  institution  anything 
which  might  be  considered  as  disinterested  science.  When 
the  School  of  Mines  was  reorganised  in  Jcrmyn  Street,  great 
care  was  taken  to  admit  nothing  into  the  new  name  bestowed 
upon  the  Institution,  from  which  it  could  be  deduced  that  the 
teaching   would   cease   to   be   entirely   material.     In  England, 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      ^y 

science  is  not  divided  into  pure  science  and  applied  science,  as 
it  is  in  France,  where  it  forms  the  basis  of  two  distinct  and 
successive  courses  of  instruction,  first  in  the  Polytechnic  School 
and  afterwards  in  the  special  schools.  Pure  science  and  applied 
science  are  considered  as  one  and  the  same  thing,  and  the 
English  professor  digging  deeply,  hollows  out  a  dwelling-place 
therein  for  himself,  in  which  he  lives  shut  up,  unmindful  of 
his  surroundings.  Huxley  told  me  one  day  that  a  Cambridge 
professor,  noted  for  his  good  work  in  physics,  had  never  seen 
a  prism  in  his  life.  Natural  philosophers  may  be  found  who 
have  no  knowledge  of  chemistry  nor  of  natural  history,  and 
naturalists  who  have  no  idea  of  medicine.  It  is  not  only  in 
another  branch  of  his  special  subject  that  the  man  of  science 
is  wanting.  It  might  even  be  maintained  that  among  English 
professors  there  is  none  of  that  elevating  intercourse  and 
exchange  of  general  ideas  which  only  the  possession  of  a  sort 
of  common  language  renders  possible  and  easy.  Many  savants 
lack  what  might  be  called  the  enlightenment  of  a  general 
education  :  these  are  pure  specialists.  A  man  eager  for 
information  might  apply  in  vain  to  the  most  eminent  scholars 
in  England  ;  if  he  tried  to  engage  in  a  conversation  on  pure 
science  he  would  find  no  one  to  speak  to  ;  his  interlocutors 
would  not  answer  him. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  the  Englishman  constructs  a 
theory  from  a  class  of  facts  in  a  particular  science.  With  us 
Frenchmen  such  a  theory  is  an  explanation,  i.e.,  a  connecting 
of  the  principles  and  hypotheses  on  which  the  class  of  facts 
rests  to  the  principles  and  the  hypotheses  on  which  the  whole 
of  the  science  rests.  This  operation  is  performed  by  means 
of  abstractions  linked  one  to  the  other  by  a  subtle  and  trans- 
cendent logic.  Which  means  that  they  simply  appeal  to  our 
reason,  and  we  are  only  satisfied  when  we  can  thereby  go 
from  one  end  of  the  science  to  the  other,  without  encountering 
any  contradictions  or  hiatuses  whatsoever. 

In  England,  the  theory  based  on  any  class  of  facts  has  neither 


48  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  same  appearance,  nature,  nor  aim  ;  it  is  not  an  explanation, 
but  a  representation ;  and  a  representation  which  is  not 
intended  to  demonstrate  the  link  which  unites  the  class  of 
facts  to  others,  but  only  to  render  it  intelligible  in  itself  and, 
therefore,  imaginable  by  means  of  what  the  English  natural 
philosophers  call  a  ynodel.  Where  the  French  or  German 
natural  philosopher  perceives  a  group  of  lines  of  force,  the 
English  natural  philosopher  imagines  a  packet  of  elastic  threads, 
attached  at  the  extremities  to  the  various  points  of  conducting 
surfaces,  and  endeavouring  both  to  contract  and  expand.  In 
the  work  by  Sir  Oliver  Lodge,  in  which  the  modern  theories 
of  electricity  are  set  forth,  it  is  only  a  matter,  he  declares,  of 
ropes  which  move  on  pulleys,  which  cause  the  drums  to 
revolve,  of  some  tubes  through  which  water  is  pumped  and 
others  which  inflate  and  contract.  "  It  seems  to  me," 
said  the  great  natural  philosopher.  Lord  Kelvin,  "  that 
the  true  meaning  of  the  question,  '  Do  you  understand  a 
particular  subject  in  natural  philosophy  ?  '  is  '  Can  you  make 
a  corresponding  mechanical  model  ? '  I  am  never  satisfied 
until  I  am  able  to  make  a  mechanical  model  of  the  object.  If 
I  can  make  a  mechanical  model,  I  understand  ;  but  if  I 
cannot  make  a  mechanieal  model,  I  do  not  understand."  It  is 
"  imagine,"  and  not  "  understand,"  that  Lord  Kelvin  means  in 
this  passage,  and  the  kind  of  rough  candour  with  which  he 
repeats  to  satiety  the  word  "  understand  "  is  proof  positive 
that  he  has  no  idea  of  the  more  refined  and  spiritualised  sense 
we  have  given  to  it.^ 

There  is  another  and  even  clearer  evidence  that  the  English- 
man does  not  comprehend  science  generally  as  we  do.  The 
unity  of  each  individual  science,  and  the  unity  of  science 
considered  as  a  whole,  are,  in  our  eyes,  essential  attributes, 
without  wliich  we  are  unable  to  comprehend  the  scientific 
order.     These  attributes  are  even  part  of  its  substance.     It  is 

'  Max  Leclerc,  L'cilncuiion  dcs  classes  moycnncs  ct  dirigeatitcs  en 
A  ngletcrre. 


THE  IDEAL  IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS      49 

towards  unity  that  the  theories  of  our  scholars  incessantly  tend, 
and  unity,  which  is  the  last  word  of  their  researches,  is  the  first 
word  of  metaphysics  ;  the  two  orders  of  speculation  meet  at 
this  point.  There  is  nothing  of  the  kind  in  England.  The 
representations  by  means  of  which  scholars  demonstrate  any 
section  of  science  whatsoever,  are  pictures  intended  only  for 
the  imagination,  having  no  other  object  than  its  satisfac- 
tion ;  but  for  the  imagination  scientific  unity  does  not  exist, 
it  comprehends  singly  each  class  of  facts.  When  it  has 
explained  one  of  these  classes  by  means  of  figurations  based  on 
certain  principles  or  hypotheses,  it  passes  on  to  another,  without 
considering  itself  pledged  in  any  way  by  the  work  it  has  just 
accomplished,  and  for  the  explanation  of  the  new  class  it 
brings  forward  other  principles  and  hypotheses  ;  the  necessity 
for  any  link  existing  between  the  two  orders  of  speculation  is 
looked  upon  as  outside  the  question,  and  incoherence  reigns 
supreme.  Further,  the  speculation,  which  at  one  time  was 
based  on  a  certain  conception  of  matter,  makes  way  without 
opposition  for  a  speculation  based  on  an  entirely  different 
conception,  incompatible  with  the  first.  This  incompatibility 
would  oflFend  our  reason,  the  constant  effort  of  which  is  to 
combine  laws  and  reduce  their  number  ;  it  would  seem  like  a 
contradiction  in  science  itself.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
only  a  harmless  variety  in  the  eyes  of  the  English  imagination, 
the  characteristic  of  which  is  to  comprehend  thoroughly  each 
concrete  whole  and  give  so  vivid  a  presentment  of  it  as,  for 
the  time,  to  efface  all  the  rest.  Hence,  in  the  works  of 
Lord  Kelvin  and  Maxwell,  each  chapter  can  and  even  ought 
to  be  read  separately,  for  it  often  happens  that  if  the  first  is 
founded  on  a  conception  of  matter  which  admits  the  immobility 
of  inert  particles,  the  second  will  infer  on  the  contrary  the 
extreme  mobility  and  perpetual  circulation  of  atoms.  The 
imagination,  passing  from  one  to  the  other,  enters  each  time 
on  an  entirely  new  phase  ;  just  like  a  bird  organ,  which,  when 
the  cylinder  has  been  advanced  a  peg,  warbles  a  new  air, 
without  any  echo  of  the  preceding  airs.  E 


so  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

Another  indication  informs  us  that  the  imagination  is  not 
only  uncontrolled  by,  but  governs  science,  and  instead  of  being 
in  subjection  to  the  spirit  of  unity  and  synthesis,  imposes 
silence  upon  it.  The  subjects  which  Lord  Kelvin,  Maxwell, 
&c.,  treat  w^ith  most  complacency  are  those  on  the  borders  of 
science  which  touch  on  the  insoluble  question  of  origins. 
The  molecular  constitution  of  matter,  the  distance  between 
imponderable  particles,  and  the  nature  of  light  and  electricity, 
have  been  treated  by  them  with  an  audacity  which  fearlessly 
handles  a  thousand  millions  of  atoms  and,  as  it  were,  sports 
with  time  and  eternity.  The  reason  of  this,  is  that  these 
questions  have  a  side  which  touches  on  the  infinite,  i.e.^  on  a 
domain  of  which  the  imagination  is  sole  sovereign.  Moreover, 
certain  scholars,  such  as  Lodge  and  Tait,  are  accessible  to  such 
hypotheses  as  spiritualism,  magic,  &c.,  which  a  more  rational 
conception  of  method  would  have  made  them  avoid. ^  With 
a  perfect  tranquillity  of  mind  they  take  their  point  of  departure 
outside  science  ;  they  unconsciously  step  over  the  boundary 
which  separates  the  certain  from  the  probable,  the  probable 
from  the  imaginary  and  chimerical. 

But  it  is  especially  in  matters  of  positive  faith  that  this 
tendency  in  the  British  character  is  chiefly  remarkable. 
Michelet  made  a  distinction  between  the  people  who  love 
nature  and  the  people  who  love  books.  This  division  coincides 
in  a  general  way  with  another  and  more  significant.  Lovers 
of  beauty  who  only  comprehend  the  idea  of  law  through  the 
order  and  harmony  of  nature  arc  to  be  found  all  over  the 
world.  Others  there  are,  inclined  towards  action  and  efficiency, 
whose  first  and  chief  requirement  is  an  inward  strength  which 
gives  them  complete  command  over  themselves,  and  enables 
them  to  rally  all  their  energies  and  master  reality.  Of  these 
are  the  English.  An  active  rather  than  a  contemplative  race, 
they  were  predestined  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  Rome  and 
reject  the  Catholic  faith. 

'  Duhcm's  L'Ecole  auf^laisc  cl  Ics  theories  physiques. 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS       51 

Catholicism  is  not  merely  a  religion  of  the  heart  and 
conscience ;  a  strongly  organised  spiritual  power,  it  also 
presents  the  external  appearance  of  an  imposing  political 
institution  which  demands  and  obtains  obedience.  By  means 
of  its  local  sanctuaries  with  their  particular  cult  and  special 
virtues,  and  its  various  half-divine  types,  which  recall  the 
heroes  and  demigods  of  Greece  and  Rome,  it  links  itself  to 
historical  tradition,  and  forms  a  natural  sequence  to  the 
paganism  it  has  destroyed.  On  the  other  hand  the  mysticism 
blended  with  its  faith,  the  sensuality  and  suave  poetry  of  its 
creed,  its  talismans,  sacred  playthings,  magic  formulas,  and 
numberless  sacraments,  by  means  of  which  the  awful  God, 
brought  into  everyday  life,  seems  to  grow  kindly  and  familiar, 
respond  to  a  somewhat  whimsical  aesthetic  sense  in  man,  a 
delicately  feminine  conception  of  things.  In  its  semi-pelagian 
theory  of  Grace,  and  reluctance  to  exalt  faith  above  liberty 
and  works,  it  approaches  the  masculine  and  simple  doctrine  of 
rationalism.  It  is  a  truly  human  religion,  inasmuch  as  it 
accepts  man  as  a  whole,  reconciles  his  antinomies,  respects  his 
habits,  humours  his  weaknesses,  and  shows  appreciation  of  his 
natural  intelligence.  These  contradictory  qualities  entail  a 
certain  infirmity.  Catholicism  supplies  the  will  rather  with 
a  series  of  particular  recipes,  adapted  to  the  various  necessities 
of  life,  than  with  a  broad  and  elastic  code  of  regulation. 

Sometimes  it  helps  man  to  escape  from  the  intolerably 
burdensome  or  vulgar  duties  which  society  imposes  upon  him  ; 
guides  the  strong  and  urges  him  on  to  the  attainment  of  the 
sublime  virtues  of  renunciation  and  holiness  ;  and  offers  the 
weak  a  refuge  in  the  narrow  life  and  indolent  idealism  of  the 
cloister.  Sometimes  it  acts  the  part  of  a  too  indulgent  doctor 
to  human  infirmity,  and  by  ingenious  sophistries  reconciles  the 
law  of  Christ  and  mundanity.  Charity  is  its  triumph.  But 
is  not  charity  as  interpreted  by  Catholicism  an  encouragement 
to  improvidence  and  self-surrender  ?  Instead  of  forcing  the 
heart  to  examine  itself  and  face  actualities,  it  falsifies  the  moral 


52  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

problem  by  simplifying  it,  evades,  disguises,  and  misrepresents 
it  by  bringing  in  the  priest  and  the  sacrament ;  and  eventually 
resolves  it,  as  it  were,  mechanically.  An  ingenious  eclecticism, 
which  appeals  to  the  imagination,  the  senses  and  the  heart 
without  too  great  a  strain  on  the  reason,  Catholicism  does  not 
supply  the  invigorating  atmosphere  which  is  necessary  to 
strengthen  the  character  and  adapt  it  to  the  usages  of  our 
present  existence. 

Protestantism  of  the  most  pronounced  type  and  in  its  most 
popular  forms  furnishes  strict  discipline  for  the  will.  Angli- 
canism is  merely  a  combination  of  statesmen,  a  Church  rather 
than  a  religion,  and  the  Church  of  a  caste.  We  must  seek  for 
the  heart  of  the  nation  among  the  Dissenters.  It  throbs  in 
Puritanism,  Presbyterianism,  and  Wesleyanism.  There  is  no 
connection  between  these  beliefs  and  classic  religion  or 
philosophy.  Protestantism  has  not  received  from  tradition  the 
historical  and  universal  character  which  imprints  a  Roman 
stamp  on  the  religion  of  the  Vatican.  It  is  rather  a  species  of 
purified  and  transfigured  Judaism  revived  after  fifteen  centuries. 
Far  from  appealing  to  every  man,  its  aridity,  austerity,  dislike 
or  disdain  for  forms,  and  its  iconoclastic  tendencies,  make  it  a 
gehenna  for  the  imagination  and  the  sensibility.  It  prides 
itself  on  placing  or  leaving  man  in  normal  and  customary  con- 
ditions, supplying  him  with  a  fund  of  strength  which  is 
regulated  by  nature  for  expenditure  in  practical  life.  The 
doctrine  of  justification  by  works  allows  man  to  repose  upon 
the  merit  of  external  and  intermittent  actions,  and  atoning  by 
them  for  others  less  commendable,  he  makes  up  the  account  of 
his  hours.  Justification  by  faith  places  him  in  the  grip  of  a 
rigid  ultimatum,  a  moral  "  all  or  nothing."  To  those  who 
believe,  God  gives  everything,  and  no  one  truly  believes  if  he 
does  not  entirely  surrender  himself  in  return.  By  faith, 
things  which  were  the  same  become  different,  altering  in 
significance  and  worth  ;  without  faith,  nothing  is  of  any 
importance  because  everything  is  valueless.     The  signification 


THE  IDEAL   IN  ITS  APPLICATIONS       53 

of  actions  gives  place  therefore  to  a  general  signification  of  the 
will  and  the  conscience.  The  deep  conviction  of  a  new  inner 
life  renders  the  homage  man  accords  to  common  sense  mean- 
ingless and  insignificant,  and  abolishes  the  futile  balance  he 
established  between  his  merits  and  his  faults.  Justification  by 
faith  is  a  glorification  :  it  is  like  a  new  birth  which  creates  a 
right  of  primogeniture  for  its  elect,  thereby  becoming  a  school 
of  moral  strength  and  liberty.  It  conceals  pride  under  humility. 
A  Catholic,  the  more  surely  to  gain  heaven,  simply  flies  temp- 
tation ;  if  he  does  act,  the  more  painful  and  useless  his  actions 
are,  the  less  notice  they  attract,  and  the  less  fruit  they  bear, 
the  nearer  to  sanctity  he  believes  himself  to  be.  The  chosen 
ideal  of  life  in  Catholicism  has  always  been  asceticism.  The 
Calvinist  begins  by  conquering  his  will  by  grace,  thus  placing 
it  in  harmony  with  the  will  of  God.  He  goes  forth  into 
action  fearlessly  and  triumphantly,  having  entered  into  an 
alliance  with  an  infinite  power.  He  approaches  the  combat 
like  a  man  who  wears  divine  and  impenetrable  armour  ;  he 
exercises  his  energy  regardless  of  the  temptations  thereby 
incurred  and  the  moral  deficit  which  would  constitute  him  a 
debtor.     He  sets  out  ransomed,  free  and  secure. 

In  short,  Catholicism  is  the  religion  of  a  puissant  spiritual 
power  which  legislates,  prohibits,  and  punishes  ;  it  has  a  State 
policy  of  its  own  to  which  the  individual  bows.  Protestantism 
is  the  religion  of  spiritual  "  self-government."  One  is 
eminently  the  creator  of  order  and  rule  ;  the  other  is  eminently 
the  preserver  and  renewer  of  energy,  and  the  religion  most 
suited  to  a  people  born  for  action. 


PART  II 

THE   HUMAN  ENVIRONMENT 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    ALIEN    RACES 

General  Observations. 

After  the  natural  environment,  formed  by  physical  causes, 
comes  the  human  environment,   formed  by  the  collection  or 
people  around  each  man.     Take  a  race  as  it  issues  from  pre- 
historic shades  :  it  is  already  divided  into  tribes,  which  possess 
the  rudiments  of  institutions,  a  supreme  ruler,  ranks,  heads  or 
families,  and   religious  beliefs  and  superstitions.    These  things, 
which  we  comprehend  in  the   vague   idea  of  race,  are,  as  a 
matter  of  ract,  the  effect  of  the  successive  physical  environ- 
ments traversed  by  migrations,  and  the  fortuitous  circumstances 
encountered  by  man  during  his  progress.     The  fertility  of  the 
soil,  the  form  of  the  continents,  the  quality  of  the  light,  the 
proximity   of    warlike    tribes   or    civilised    nations,    &c.,    are 
apparently  the  causes  which  have  brought  the  people  to  the 
degree  of  development  indicated  by   the  signs  we  have  men- 
tioned.    The  causes  operated  with   the  more   effect  that  man 
was  newly  created,  and  the  freshness  of  his  sensibility  and  the 
pliancy  of  his  organism  rendered   him  easily  receptive.      As 
yet  external  sensations  would  not  encounter  in  him  a  large  and 
compact  mass  of  acquired   habits,  capable  of  resisting  pressure 
and  refusing  to  receive  impressions.     The  climate  and  other 
material   agents   have    therefore    played    a    chief  part    in    the 
fashioning  of  human  nature  ;  they  have  left  profound  traces  on 
it,  such  as  wc  should  not  expect  in  the  present  day  from  these 

57 


58  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

causes  now  almost  ineffective  :  their  effects  are  perpetuated  in 
individuals  ;  they  have  triumphed  by  the  v\^eight  of  large 
numbers  or  the  influence  of  the  elect.  It  was  to  this  deg;ree 
of  civilisation  that  the  Germans  of  Caesar  and  Tacitus  had 
attained  when  they  formed  the  first  nucleus  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race. 

The  race  now  enters  and  comes  forward  into  history  :  it 
has  arrived  at  its  last  halting-place  and  is  established  in  the 
country  where  its  destinies  v,^ill  be  worked  out.  We  see  this 
new  historical  unit,  of  which  heretofore  there  existed  only  the 
germs  and  tissues  branching  out  in  all  directions,  in  the  shape 
of  institutions,  traditions,  and  customs.  Supreme  power  is 
concentrated  in  the  government,  religion  in  the  Church  ; 
literature  has  its  monuments,  the  number  of  which  grows  from 
century  to  century  ;  and  public  education  develops  in  accor- 
dance with  a  pre-arranged  system.  In  a  word,  all  the  germs 
which  had  hitherto  been  separated  and  incoherent  have  now 
combined  and  form  a  resistant  and  compact  mass,  rebellious  to 
the  action  of  material  causes.  Among  the  causes  which  can 
still  transform  the  human  environment  I  see  scarcely  anything 
except  invasions,  which  bring  it  into  direct  contact  with 
another  people,  and  into  personal  relations  with  a  civilisation 
developed  elsewhere  under  totally  different  conditions.  We 
shall  have  to  take  note  of  this  influence,  which  was  never 
more  apparent  than  in  the  conquest  of  1066.  This  conquest 
was  the  last  in  order  of  date,  and  after  it  the  human  environ- 
ment became  still  more  modified  by  such  imperceptible 
changes  as  when  from  an  agricultural  nation  it  became  com- 
mercial and  colonising,  and  later,  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
when,  though  still  commercial  and  colonising,  it  became 
industrial.  Even  more  productive  of  results  was  the  Reforma- 
tion, which,  while  operating  profoundly  on  the  individual, 
brought  to  light  the  virile  qualities  of  a  sleeping  race.  Among 
decisive  influences  may  be  ranked  the  two  acts  of  union,  after 
which  first  Scotland  and  then  Ireland  began  a  sort  of  invasion 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  59 

of  England,  which  ended  in  the  blending  of  the  three  races, 
and  the  progressive  enrichment  of  the  English  type.  These 
facts  and  the  causes  which  led  up  to  them  are  worth  studying, 
both  in  themselves  and  their  consequences,  for  they  have  all 
had  their  share  in  the  far-reaching  and  profound  modification 
of  the  race —in  other  words,  the  human  environment.  Some- 
times, by  facilitating  certain  relations  and  repeating  occasions 
for  intercourse,  they  have  given  rise  to  customs,  encouraged 
tendencies,  and  brought  to  light  qualities  to  which  they  gave 
scope  ;  sometimes  by  sowing  in  certain  men  a  doctrine  capable 
of  propagation  by  the  influence  of  example  and  the  infection 
of  self-sacrifice,  they  have  renewed,  rejuvenated,  and  trans- 
formed the  heart  of  the  nation. 

I. — The  Germans. 

First  of  all,  let  us  consider  the  ancient  Germans  in  their 
native  land  as  Caesar  and  Tacitus  represented  them.  They 
had  something  of  the  savage  and  the  beast ;  characteristics 
which  were  partly  the  result  of  a  backward  state  of  civilsiation, 
and  partly  of  an  ingrained  nature  which  reappeared  again  and 
again  after  centuries  of  culture  and  refinement.  Wine, 
gaming,  and  sleep  entirely  occupied  these  brutes  in  time  of 
peace.  At  banquets  they  made  their  great  resolutions  and 
decided  for  peace  or  war  ;  to  make  up  their  minds  they 
required  the  excitement  of  food  and  the  fumes  of  wine.  But 
instead  of  discussions  there  were  quarrels.  Without  a  word 
having  passed  they  would  come  to  blows,  and  sometimes  when 
they  recovered  from  their  intoxication  they  would  kill  or  injure 
those  who  did  not  agree  with  them. 

Puberty  was  backward  among  the  Germans,  and  all  the 
stronger  and  more  vigorous  on  account  of  its  long  maturing. 
The  women  were  chaste,  the  family  sacred.  Good  manners 
supplied  the  lack  of  good  laws.  Each  house  was  isolated  ;  the 
attraction  of  a  wood  or  the  proximitv  of  a  stream  determined 


6o  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  situation  ;  and  large  spaces  separated  each  house  from  its 
neighbour.  Even  at  banquets  each  diner  had  his  own  table. 
The  nation  was  possessed  by  a  horror  of  inactivity,  thereby 
differing  from  the  Gauls,  who  were  reproached  by  Tacitus  for 
their  indolence.  The  Germans  jealously  guarded  their  liberty  ; 
this  is  why  they  took  two  or  three  days  to  present  themselves 
at  political  gatherings  ;  they  did  not  wish  to  appear  as  if  under 
orders  to  attend.  They  allowed  their  priests  to  be  the  leaders 
of  their  political  meetings,  and  to  reprimand  and  strike  them 
in  battle,  so  that  the  chastisement  seemed  to  come  direct  from 
God.  Resolutions  were  moved  by  the  chiefs,  whose  words  had 
weight  according  to  their  age,  nobility,  and  eloquence  ;  they 
adopted  the  tone  of  the  orator  who  tries  to  convince,  not  that 
of  the  master  who  commands.  The  soldiers  reserved  the  right 
of  option.  Hidden  behind  their  bucklers,  they  signified  their 
refusal  or  assent  by  a  prolonged  murmur  or  clash  of  arms. 

The  political  constitution  of  the  Germans  in  the  time  of 
Tacitus  was  absolutely  rudimentary,  but  Fustel  assures  us  that 
the  same  might  be  said  of  all  the  races  which  had  arrived  at 
the  same  degree  of  civilisation.  As  a  constitution  the  State 
was  unknown  ;  and  that  representative  of  the  State,  the  official, 
was  non-existent.  The  Gauls  were  very  different  ;  both  in 
France  and  Italy  at  this  period  they  used  to  canvass  for  and 
obtain  numerous  public  offices  which  had  been  instituted  by 
the  Romans.  Some  of  the  tribes  had  no  king  ;  others  sur- 
rounded royalty  with  the  respect  demanded  by  birth,  which 
constituted  the  sole  title  to  this  dignity.  Further,  with  the 
Germans  the  king  had  no  arbitrary  power  ;  his  authority  was 
strictly  limited  ;  limited  also  was  the  authority  of  the  princ'ipes^ 
who  were  chosen  by  the  soldiers  on  account  of  their  courage. 
They  did  not  command  in  battle,  simply  taking  the  lead  by 
force  of  example  and  great  deeds  accomplished.  They  were 
chiefs  by  right  of  admiration.  Each  of  these  personages  was 
surrounded  by  a  certain  number  of  soldiers  chosen  by  himself. 
They  were  not  ashamed  to  follow  in  his  train,  and  to  form  his 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  6i 

comitatus.  They  considered  themselves  bound  to  him  by  an 
oath  of  allegiance,  and  gloried  in  being  killed  or  wounded  in  his 
defence.  They  pledged  their  faith  not  to  the  individual  only, 
but  also  to  his  posterity,  and  the  oath  of  allegiance  they  swore 
extended  even  to  his  younger  children.  Finally,  religion 
ranked  high  in  their  life  and  thought  ;  but  it  was  a  religion 
which  owed  nothing  to  plastic  forms.  God  was  the  sovereign. 
He  ruled  behind  those  who  were  in  command,  and  the  excom- 
munication of  the  impure  gave  the  finishing  touch  to  the 
perfectly  moral  character  of  this  unbcautified  religion. 

I  will  not  vouch  for  the  significance  and  import  of  any  of 
these  peculiarities  considered  separately,  but  I  certainly  am 
struck  by  the  effect  they  produce  as  a  whole,  particularly 
when  I  recognise  trait  after  trait,  more  or  less  transformed, 
in  contemporary  English  civilisation.  What  man,  having  lived 
in  England  for  a  long  time,  can  deny  the  materialism  of  the 
larger  part  of  the  nation  ?  To-day,  as  heretofore,  sport, 
betting,  and  drinking  must  be  reckoned  among  the  most 
appreciated  pleasures  of  the  English  ;  to-day,  as  heretofore, 
the  plenitude  of  a  satisfied  stomach  is  required  for  the  uplift- 
ing of  their  genius  ;  and,  if  a  statesman  at  the  beginning  of 
the  last  century  is  to  be  believed,  the  most  important  resolu- 
tions and  ingenious  schemes  are  formed  in  the  half-hour  after 
dinner  which  Englishmen  devote  to  hard  drinking  and  smoking- 
room  conversation.  Tardy  puberty,  chastity  of  the  women, 
and  large  families  are  characteristics  of  modern  England,  just 
as  they  were  of  ancient  Germany.  What  observer  has  not 
noticed  the  small  detached  houses  which,  even  in  the  towns, 
are  portioned  out  at  the  rate  of  one  to  each  family,  and  the 
clubs  where  the  table  cPhote  is  unknown  ?  A  desire  for 
contention  and  effort  still  animates  the  race.  The  results  of 
their  activity  are  in  evidence  over  the  entire  globe.  But  what 
may  be  traced  throughout  English  history  right  up  to  our  own 
days  is  the  same  striking  antinomy  as  that  which  existed 
between  the  German's  profound  devotion  and  strict  obedience 


62  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

to  his  chief  and  his  chief's  family  and  his  instinct  of  revolt  and 
reluctance  to  conform  to  the  wiser  discipline  of  which  the 
State  was  the  centre  and  mainspring.  The  sentiment  of 
personal  fidelity  to  a  man  and  his  posterity  which  the  Germanic 
follower  felt  for  his  chief  has  passed  more  or  less  into  the 
profound  loyalty  of  the  English  subjects  to  the  race  and  blood 
of  their  princes.  And  yet  what  people  have  more  frequently 
rebelled  against  their  kings  and  molested,  offered  violence  to, 
imprisoned,  deposed,  and  put  them  to  death  ?  The  irritable 
pride  of  the  free  man  has  been  tragically  manifested  side  by 
side  with  many  proofs  of  an  extraordinary  attachment  to  the 
dynasty. 

Similarly,  the  pride  of  the  German,  impatient  of  all  assumed, 
improvised,  or  uncertain  authority,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  his 
innate  respect  for  all  superiority  having  a  solid  foundation  in  a 
traditional  social  order,  may  be  reckoned  among  the  causes 
which  in  England  have  arrested  the  development  of  the 
administrative  monarchy,  and  established  in  its  place  a  powerful 
political  aristocracy.  Thence  has  arisen  the  local  self-govern- 
ment in  which,  until  lately,  bureaucracy  was  unknown  and 
the  official  hardly  appeared,  no  special  countenance  being 
granted  to  him,  whilst  for  centuries  the  English  subject 
readily  accepted  what  appears  to  be  a  far  more  questionable 
hierarchy,  and  patiently  submitted  to  the  quasi-paternal  authority 
of  his  neighbour,  who,  though  a  great  landed  proprietor,  was  a 
private  individual  like  himself.  The  Englishman  is  for  anti- 
equality,  in  the  sense  that  he  wants  perfectly  distinct  classes  in 
society,  and  even  several  degrees  in  his  own  class ;  he  admits 
the  hereditary  transmission  of  titles,  but  will  not  allow  that 
birth  is  the  one  thing  needful ;  he  believes  that  merit  may, 
some  time  or  other,  claim  part  in  them.  No  one  has  a  greater 
respect  for  rank,  yet  no  one  is  less  familiar  with  the  spirit  or 
caste.  He  is  not  averse  to  privileges,  but  he  will  not  tolerate 
them  as  simple  immunities  ;  he  joins  with  them  compulsory 
duties  and  obligations.     These  characteristics  are  substantially 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  63 

the  same  as  those  contained  in  the  description  which  Tacitus 
has  left  us  of  Germany.  The  same  double  and  contradictory 
tendency  reappears  throughout  the  whole  of  the  political  class, 
which,  while  closely  restricting  the  royal  power,  was  careful 
not  to  destroy  nor  depreciate  it,  and  which  substituted  parlia- 
mentary government — i.e.^  government  by  discussion  and  per- 
suasion— for  the  sway  of  a  single  man.  Again,  this  tendency 
reappears  in  the  religious  class,  which  threw  off  the  yoke  of 
sacerdotalism,  once  so  powerful,  and  took  away  the  authority 
of  the  confessional  and  the  prestige  of  the  real  presence,  bring- 
ing religion  down  to  the  level  of  the  simple  believer,  so  that 
the  clergy  entirely  ceased  to  be  intermediaries  and  the  believers 
tolerated  nothing  but  the  sacred  text  between  them  and  their 
one  Master,  God. 

2. — Anglo-Saxons  and  Celts.     DaneSy  Normans. 

The  English  nation,  of  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  formed 
the  first  stock,  presents  this  peculiarity,  that  it  is  the  least 
mixed  and  most  homogeneous  of  nations.  The  English  are  the 
Germans  of  the  North.  Among  the  Germans  they  had  for 
ancestors  the  Angles,  the  Jutes,  and  the  Saxons,  who  all 
belonged  to  the  same  Low  German  stock.  The  last-comers, 
the  Danes  and  the  Normans,  were  branches  separated  from  the 
same  trunk  which  for  a  long  time  had  been  nourished  by  the 
same  sap  ;  no  events  were  needed  to  graft  them  one  on  the 
other.  The  first-comers  found  Great  Britain  occupied  by  a 
Celtic  population  ;  but  the  slowness  and  brutality  of  the  con- 
quest and  the  energy  of  the  resistance  ended  in  the  extermina- 
tion or  rigorous  cantonment  of  the  conquered,  and  for  a  long 
time  no  fusion  was  possible  between  the  invaders  and  the  first 
occupants.  The  reverse  was  the  case  in  the  Germanic  inva- 
sions on  the  Continent.  The  Franks,  for  example,  melted 
rapidly  into  the  subjugated  population,  adopted  its  idioms  and 
religion,  and  formed  a  mixed  race.  What  happened  in  Great 
Britain's   early   days  was    repeated    later   on    in    the    English 


64  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

colonial  settlements.     The  inferior  races  never  mingled  with 
their  conquerors,  and  disappeared,  leaving  no  trace. 

Some  of  the  highest  authorities  have  delighted  in  proving 
that  the  Celts  have  not  been  exterminated,  but  continue  to 
exist  unnoticed,  cultivating  the  land  for  their  German  masters, 
and  that,  chiefly  through  the  serving-w^omen,  the  two  races 
have  become  inextricably  blended.  They  go  even  further  : 
they  give  us  to  understand  that  the  genius  of  the  Celts  has 
passed  with  their  blood  into  the  veins  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
people,  citing  in  support  of  this  theory  the  insatiable  curiosity, 
the  rich  invention,  and  even  the  art  of  dialogue  and  the 
picturesque  setting  to  be  found  in  the  first  monuments  of  their 
literature.  I  do  not  deny  that  the  germs,  rather  than  the  full 
flower,  of  these  qualities  is  to  be  found  in  the  Irish  narratives 
attributed  to  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries,  and  founded 
upon  yet  more  ancient  originals,  which  the  transcriber  felt 
bound  to  embellish  with  the  ornaments  and  artifices  proper  to 
his  time  ;  neither  do  I  deny  the  absence  of  the  same  gifts  in 
the  old  Anglo-Saxon  poems,  the  greater  number  of  which 
originally  came  from  Iceland  [Beowulf^  which  is  considered 
the  most  important  by  the  English,  is  attributed  to  the  eighth 
century).  It  requires  a  scholar's  utmost  temerity  to  ground 
conclusions  on  so  fragile  a  basis.  But  this  contrast — taken  for 
what  it  is  worth — may  it  not  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
Anglo-Saxons  were  for  a  long  time  mere  barbarians,  and  that 
their  civilisation  was  perhaps  two  or  three  centuries  behind 
that  of  Ireland,  whose  adm.irable  religious  system  rivalled,  it 
is  said,  for  a  while  even  that  of  Rome  ?  The  richness  of 
invention,  the  art  of  dialogue  and  of  picturesque  setting  were, 
in  the  case  of  the  Irish,  merely  the  effects  of  a  culture  and 
development  about  three  centuries  in  advance  of  that  of  the 
conquerors  of  Great  Britain. 

I  willingly  admit  that  those  Celtic  populations  which  re- 
tained their  independence  were  able  to  exercise  some  sort 
of  superficial,  tardy,  and  transitory  influence  on  the  invaders  ; 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  G5 

but  I  have  difficulty  in  believing  that  the  Anglo-Saxons  owed 
nothing  of  their  genius  to  the  Britons  who  were  subjugated 
on  their  own  soil.  The  intellectual  type  of  a  race  is,  in 
the  beginning,  the  product  of  the  natural  environment ;  after- 
wards it  is  chiefly  the  product  of  the  slowly  progressive  human 
environment — a  compound  of  mental  habits  which  become 
fixed,  sustained,  and  inveterate  by  the  continuous  circulation 
of  certain  modes  of  thought,  reasoning,  and  feeling.  The 
same  habits  become  enfeebled,  infrequent,  and  finally  non- 
existent if  the  circulation  is  hindered  or  interrupted.  Language 
and  literature  are  the  depositories  of  this  spiritual  capital,  the 
vehicles  of  this  intercourse.  When,  in  the  case  of  a  subjugated 
race,  they  have  been  violently  and  absolutely  abolished,  it  is 
like  the  destruction  of  a  museum  the  models  in  which  have 
been  incessantly  copied,  moulding  all  men  in  the  likeness  of 
the  same  image ;  the  original  social  mould  perishes.  The 
scattered  and  oppressed  individuals  of  the  vanquished  race 
submit,  as  in  the  past,  to  the  action  of  the  natural  environ- 
ment. But  the  moral  environment  is  entirely  transformed  ; 
it  is  now  that  of  the  conquering  race — full,  free,  and  vigorous. 
The  bulk  of  the  vanquished  race  melts  rapidly  away  under  the 
powerful  influence,  until  it  can  no  longer  be  reckoned  with  as 
a  cause  or  scientifically  appreciable  element. 

This  is  precisely  what  happened  to  the  Celts  in  England. 
All  the  indications  are  contrary  to  the  hypothesis  of  a  fruitful 
survival  of  their  intellectual  type.  When  the  vanquished  have 
a  superior  religion  they  generally  win  their  masters  over  to 
it.  The  Anglo-Saxons,  who,  since  449,  were  in  contact 
with  a  Christian  population  more  civilised  than  themselves, 
remained  heathens  until  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century 
(579-681).  They  owed  their  tardy  conversion  to  a  mission 
which  came  from  the  Continent.  The  vanquished,  before 
mingling  with  their  conquerors,  often  for  a  long  while  sing 
softly  among  themselves  of  the  exploits,  the  glory,  and  the 
misfortunes  of  their  race  ;   history  retains  the  echo  of  these 

F 


66  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

deep,  dull  murmurs.  In  this  case  not  a  Celtic  verse  survived 
the  conquest.  Language  is  the  keeper  of  national  traditions, 
the  mirror  in  which  the  ethnical  type  learns  to  recognise  itself. 
The  subjugated  Britons  immediately  and  completely  unlearnt 
theirs  ;  they  passed  nothing,  even  of  their  second  language, 
Latin,  except  a  little  ecclesiastical  jargon,  into  the  idiom  of 
the  conquerors.  M.  Jusserand  believes  that  until  the  eleventh 
century  no  single  trait  of  their  genius  reappeared  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  literature,  which  in  inspiration  and  in  style  was  entirely 
Germanic.  So  nothing  outward  and  visible  has  survived,  and 
everything  has  to  be  inferred  from  the  mingling  of  blood  in 
some  unknown  but  probable  fornications.  That  these  obscure 
and  dumb  vehicles  also  transported  a  portion  of  the  Celtic 
spirit  is  possible,  but  in  any  case  it  is  only  an  hypothesis,  and 
an  hypothesis  without  any  great  interest,  it  seems  to  me. 
Moreover,  it  is  an  hypothesis  unsusceptible  of  scientific  proof, 
like  those  specious  etymologies,  the  intermediary  forms  of  which 
the  linguist  has  not  been  able  to  trace  in  the  evolution  of  the 
.anguage.  That  the  intermixing  should  continue  for  five  cen- 
turies without  one  of  the  elements  betraying  itself  by  any  sign 
to  the  outside  world  seems  almost  impossible,  and  the  conjec- 
ture is  the  more  unlikely  that  the  first  supposed  manifestation 
of  the  Celtic  genius  must  have  been  made  after  the  Norman 
invasion,  i.e.^  at  an  epoch  when  a  new,  weighty,  and  influential 
cause  supervened,  which  would  easily  account  by  itself  for 
anything  open  to  question. 

Before  quitting  this  point  I  must  make  one  or  two  remarks. 
The  first  is,  that  all  the  successive  occupants  of  British 
territory,  issuing  from  the  same  stock,  who  helped  to  form  the 
English  nation,  were,  without  exception,  adventurers,  pirates 
and  fortune-seekers,  who  may  have  had  diverse  motives  for 
leaving  their  native  land,  but  all  of  whom  possessed  the 
requisite  energy  to  do  so.  A  struggle  at  once  took  place 
between  the  first  arrivals  and  the  successive  new-comers,  in- 
congruous elements  as  they  were,  yet  all  equally  remarkable  for 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  67 

physical  vigour  and  exceptional  morals.  This  struggle  was 
characterised  by  extreme  barbarism  and  inhumanity.  In  the 
end  a  great  and  favourable  elimination  was  accomplished  :  the 
feeble  were  cut  down  ;  and  only  the  most  obstinate,  intrepid, 
and  strongest  remained  to  form  families.  And  so  a  nation  was 
formed  which,  in  spite  of  ethnical  differences  and  diversity  of 
latitude,  presents  a  striking  analogy  to  ancient  Rome,  which 
in  the  beginning  was  peopled  with  bandits  and  rebels,  and,  by 
disciplining  their  energies  very  gradually,  finally  dominated  the 
whole  world,  thanks  to  these  brute  forces  deposited  in  her 
cradle.  Emerson  made  the  following  forcible  remark  on  this 
subject:  "Nature  held  counsel  with  herself  and  said,  'My 
Romans  are  gone.  To  build  my  new  Empire,  I  will  choose  a 
rude  race,  all  masculine,  with  brutish  strength.  I  will  not 
grudge  a  competition  of  the  roughest  males.  Let  buffalo  gore 
buffalo,  and  the  pasture  to  the  strongest  !  For  I  have  work 
that  requires  the   best  will  and   sinew.' " 

The  second  remark  is,  that  the  Latin  education  of  Great 
Britain  was  twice  begun — first  in  the  time  of  the  Britons, 
second  in  the  time  of  Bede  and  Alcuin — and  that  on  both 
occasions  it  was  interrupted,  and  its  effects  totally  obliterated, 
by  the  terrible  invasions  of  barbarism,  from  whicli  it  did  not 
thoroughly  recover  until  the  eleventh  century,  since  when  it 
has  progressed  up  to  the  present  time.  It  was  in  the  short 
interval  between  the  last  Danish  invasion,  that  of  Harold 
Hardrada,  and  the  expedition  of  William  the  Bastard,  that  the 
die  was  thrown  on  which  had  been  staked  the  future  of 
English  civilisation.  Pure  Germanism  was  the  loser,  Latinity 
the  winner;  and  so  the  foundation  was  laid  of  a  mixed 
civiHsation,  a  rich  and  original  combination  of  traditions  and 
capabilities.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  so 
long  a  stranger  to  Christianity,  was  later  than  others  in  enter- 
ing into  continued  intercourse  witli  this  Latin  civilisation, 
which  was  like  an  accumulated  treasure  from  whence  Italy  and 
France    borrowed  ready-made  ideas,  and  in  which  they  early 


68  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

found  rules  of  life  and  principles  of  organisation  greatly 
superior  to  their  own  social  state.  The  first  education — or 
rather  apprenticeship — of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  was  the 
rough  result  of  circumstances,  and  derived  no  sustained  assist- 
ance from  the  common  patrimony  of  Latinity.  Its  case  might 
be  likened  to  that  of  those  young  men  who,  prevented  by  a 
reverse  of  fortune  from  following  the  regular  course  of  their 
studies,  and  early  thrown  into  practical  life  among  adventurers 
in  distant  lands,  grow  up  there  fashioned  by  circumstances 
and  the  force  of  their  own  individuality.  The  Anglo-Saxon 
race  was,  in  many  respects,  almost  adult  when  it  definitely 
received  its  share  of  the  Greco-Latin  inheritance.  The 
consequences  of  this  delay  can  be  felt  even  to-day.  Like  the 
men  to  whom  I  compare  it,  the  nation  has  acquired  a  powerful 
originality.  Like  them,  it  lacks,  and  perhaps  will  always  lack, 
what  France  and  Italy  owe  to  their  uninterrupted  intercourse 
with  antiquity :  the  simplified  mode  of  thought,  classic 
principle,  sobriety,  Atticism  and  refinement  of  taste,  which 
were  derived  by  these  nations  from  a  sort  of  previous  existence, 
from  which  England  finds  herself  cut  off,  or  the  consciousness 
of  which  came  to  her  too  late.  As  a  set-off,  she  has  escaped 
what  is  artificial  and  conventional,  and  overmuch  pruned, 
purged,  clarified,  and  consequently  impoverished,  in  the 
literatures  derived  from  the  Latin  and  Greek.  If  English 
literature  generally  gives  the  impression  of  an  overflowing 
virility  and  inexhaustible  vigour  rather  than  that  of  perfec- 
tion ;  if  force  is  more  evident  than  exact  proportion  and 
exquisite  arrangement  in  the  work  of  the  great  writers  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Channel ;  if  our  appreciation  of  the  shades 
of  difference  in  manner  and  style  has  never  been  properly 
experienced  in  England,  if  it  disappears  in  the  broad,  robust 
and  healthy  realism  and  opulent  confusion  which  distinguishes 
their  most  original  creations,  it  is  chiefly  owing  to  the  repeated 
abortion  of  the  Latin  education,  and  to  the  first  practical 
education  by  life  and  circumstances,  which  surrendered  minds 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  69 

already  formed  and  resistant  to   the  influence  of   the  antique 
models. 

Though  these  may  be  good  reasons  for  disputing  the 
invisible  survival  of  the  Celtic  genius  on  English  soil,  how  can 
we  disregard  the  immense  and  noisy  diffusion  of  the  Norman 
spirit  and  its  action  on  the  semi-barbarous  mass  out  of  which 
the  English  nation  has  been  formed  ?  The  conquest  of  1066 
simply  dug  the  bed  for  the  broad  human  current  which, 
taking  its  rise  on  the  Continent,  flowed  on  for  several 
centuries.  The  name  Norman  is  only  the  condensed  and 
localised  term  applied  to  a  people  which  comprehended,  besides 
the  Frenchified  followers  of  RoUo,  adventurers  from  all  the 
adjacent  provinces,  Anjou,  Brittany,  Maine,  Poitou,  and  later 
on,  more  remote  places  such  as  Provence  and  Savoy.  The 
name  French,  which  has  been  applied  to  the  conquerors  since 
the  time  of  William,  is  the  only  one  which  is  approximately 
accurate.  Yet  it  must  be  understood  less  as  signifying  an 
ethnical  group  than  a  certain  type  of  civilisation  and  method, 
of  imagination  and  sensibility,  extremely  different  from  those 
which  had  already  taken  shape  among  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

Parallel  with  the  invasion  of  men  was  the  curious  invasion 
of  many  new  forms  of  literature  ;  the  knightly  epic  poem,  in 
which  love  held  a  chief  place,  romances,  allegories,  and 
moralities,  satires,  songs,  fables,  biographies,  philosophic  and 
judicial  treatises.  ...  It  seemed  as  if  a  second  army  of 
adventurers  had  set  forth,  agile  and  joyous,  like  the  archers 
whose  light  arrows  bore  down  the  heavy  axes  of  Harold's 
followers,  and  scattering  themselves  gaily  over  the  surface  of 
the  Germanic  minds,  drove  hither  and  thither  their  heavy 
lyricisms.  For  three  centuries  these  new  forms  of  literature 
were  in  vogue,  and  the  turn  of  mind  which  prompted  them 
dominant,  and  when  a  return  was  made  at  length  to  the 
primitive  type,  to  it  were  adapted  many  of  the  characteristics 
of  this  mask  which  had  been  so  long  applied  to  the  face,  as 
almost  to  have  become  part  of  it. 


;o  THE   ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

I  am  tempted  to  say,  finding  no  better  way  of  characterising 
it,  of  the  whole  of  this  period,  in  which  French  and  Latin 
writings  abounded,  whilst  the  native  tongue  almost  dis- 
appeared, that  it  is  in  a  certain  sense  prel'iterary^  and  that, 
literally  speaking,  it  is  not  national.  The  internationality  "of 
this  free  country  and  this  religious  world,"  to  which  we  owe 
nearly  all  the  great  intellectual  production  of  the  middle  ages, 
has  been  very  justly  pointed  out ;  in  truth,  they  have  no  limits. 
Nearly  all  the  authors  of  mark  born  on  British  soil  studied  or 
taught  in  Paris,  travelled  in  Italy,  stayed  in  Rome,  and  passed 
years,  or  even  the  whole  of  their  lives,  on  the  Continent. 
If  they  espoused  the  interests  of  their  fellow-countrymen  it 
was  with  reluctance  and  indifference.  They  were  half 
denationalised.  They  were  less  English  than  European, 
citizens  of  the  great  religious  and  literary  republic  of  which 
the  Court  of  Rome  and  the  University  of  Paris  were  the 
capitals.  All  those  in  Europe  who  wrote,  corresponded  one 
with  the  other  in  whatever  countries  they  might  be  ;  they 
drew  largely  from  the  same  sources,  indefatigably  treated  the 
same  subjects,  and  copied  each  other  or  some  common  model. 
Few  and  faint  were  the  indications  of  the  great  national 
literature  shortly  to  arise. 

It  must  also  be  noted  that  England,  destined  hereafter 
to  excel  by  reason  of  the  powerful  originality  of  her  work, 
showed  herself  particularly  servile  and  maladroit  in  these 
continual  imitations  and  plagiarisms.  We  can  scarcely 
entitle  "  literature  "  a  collection  of  works  to  which  invention, 
talent,  and  style  were  all  wanting.  How,  indeed,  could 
literary  gifts  develop  among  the  three  languages  which 
divided  the  future  nation,  separating  the  upper  class  from 
the  mass  of  the  people,  and  the  scholars  and  lettered  from 
both  ?  Each  of  these  languages  was  necessarily  special  and 
incomplete,  incapable  of  giving  the  creative  imagination 
the  sentiment  of  unrestricted  intercourse  with  a  powerful 
body  of  men,  all   having   the  same  glorious  destiny.      There 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  71 

are  three  things  which  spring  up  together  and  of  which  each 
is  the  condition,  the  forerunner,  and  alternately  the  cause 
and  effect  of  the  others  :  a  national  language,  a  national 
literature,  and,  around  them,  a  common  life  and  a  collective 
consciousness,  which  maintains  them,  supplies  them  with 
subjects,  and  opens  to  them  a  field  for  expansion,  full  of 
prolonged  echoes.  A  national  language  assumes  literary- 
consistency  only  under  the  pressure  of  ideas  and  new 
emotions,  which  passionately  seek  expression,  divining  that  there 
exists  a  large  public  half  unconsciously  disposed  to  receive 
them,  prepared  to  see  itself  in  them,  to  be  penetrated  by 
them,  and  to  become  conscious  through  them  of  its  profound 
unity,  which  they  will  enlarge  and  establish  yet  more  firmly. 
The  sign  that  the  evolution  is  complete  and  that  a  conscious 
nation  has  definitely  separated  itself  from  ethnical  groups,  is 
the  accession  of  prose  to  literary  dignity  ;  and,  as  a  rule,  such 
accession  coincides  with  a  vigorous  poetic  efflorescence.  But, 
until  the  time  of  WyclifFe,  there  was  no  real  English  prose, 
and  even  his  prose  can  hardly  pretend  to  be  literary.  Nor, 
until  the  same  epoch,  was  there  any  poetry.  The  great 
majority  of  authors,  both  French  and  English,  employed 
rhymthic  or  rhymed  verse  which,  properly  speaking,  was 
neither  prose  nor  poetry.  Intervals,  echoes,  consonances, 
convey  to  us  nothing  of  the  music  we  know,  designed  to 
arouse  harmonious  sensations  around  each  thought ;  they  are 
merely  points  in  the  data  of  mnemonics,  scanning  for  the  ear 
the  monotonous  and  interminable  prattle  that  was  poured  out 
on  every  subject.  It  was  not  until  1350  that  the  river 
of  English  thought  divided  itself  into  two  arms,  to  make 
room  for  the  abundance  and  impetuosity  of  the  waters  which 
a  single  bed  could  not  contain. 

Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  the  process  by  which  this 
new  nation  and  new  language  were  evolved.  Little  by  little, 
the  conquerors  and  the  conquered  became  blended,  a  single 
mass  was  formed,  and  they  could  no  longer  be  distinguished 


72  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

one  from  the  other.  After  the  invasion  the  enormous  power 
of  the  prince  and  his  inclination  to  play  the  despot  with  his 
own  Norman  vassals  brought  them  nearer  to  the  Saxons,  with 
w^hom  they  became  united  by  the  common  interest  of  self- 
defence,  afterwards  voiced  by  Parliament.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  insular  isolation  of  the  people,  who  had  become  very 
sedentary,  inclined  them  to  conceive  themselves  homogeneous 
and  set  up  a  wholesale  opposition  to  the  Continental  nations. 
Finally,  the  pretensions  of  their  kings  to  the  throne  of  France 
were  to  them  an  occasion  for  feeling  themselves  one  in  their 
proud  individuality  ;  and  therefore  they  protested  by  the  voice 
of  the  Commons  against  a  union  of  the  two  crowns,  which 
would  have  made  England  a  dependent  of  her  neighbour 
(1340).  In  the  same  year  disappeared  the  prhentement 
d  Englescherie^  the  most  striking  of  the  legal  inequalities 
existing  between  Francigena  and  Jnglicus.  It  is  probable  that 
this  procedure  had  for  a  long  while  fallen  into  desuetude  :  for 
abrogation  by  law  generally  followed  abrogation  by  custom. 

The  language  gives  curious  evidence  of  the  complete  fusion 
of  the  two  races.  For  more  than  two  centuries  French  had 
continually  gained  ground.  With  the  aid  of  Latin  it  supplied 
and  maintained  the  vocabulary  of  higher  culture — political, 
legal,  financial,  and  theological.  Further,  the  whole  weight  of 
its  influence  was  felt  over  an  even  wider  area,  replacing  the 
Anglo-Saxon  dialects  in  such  a  degree  that  it  was  entitled  the 
"common  language."  It  seemed  probable  that  the  German 
clement  would  disappear  as  the  Celtic  had  done.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  the  case  ;  but  it  helps  to  explain  the  peculiar 
formation  of  the  language  which  took  place  in  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  uncultivated  classes  did  not  cling  tenaciously  to 
the  use  of  the  original  idiom.  They  tried  to  speak  French, 
perverting  it  in  the  attempt  ;  dropping  some  portions,  ty 
maladroit  handling,  and  retaining  others,  which  became  indis- 
solubly  blended  with  their  jargon.  When  the  Anglo-Saxon 
element,   which   had   remained  intact   under  compression,   re- 


THE  ALIEN  RACES  73 

ascended  after  the  manner  of  a  geological  strata  upheaved  by 
an  internal  force,  French  was  not  like  a  superficial  crust  which 
the  inferior  language  uplifted,  detached,  and  threw  off  in  its 
entirety ;  rather  did  it  resemble  the  concretions,  debris  or 
crumbs  which  shoot  up  with  the  •  ascendant  element,  or  the 
large  seams  which  form  part  of  its  substance.  Anglo-Saxon 
itself  sustained  crushing  and  erosion.  Both  idioms  emerged 
with  the  loss  of  part  of  their  grammatical  and  prosodical  forms. 
Thus  it  was  that,  confused  by  the  genders  of  nouns,  which 
were  not  the  same  in  Anglo-Saxon  and  French,  the  new 
people  despaired  of  ever  understanding  them,  and  instead  of 
making  a  selection  called  them  all  neuter.  From  this  upheaval 
the  English  language  finally  emerged,  with  its  simplified 
grammar,  its  structure  which  at  first  did  not  lend  itself  to 
prose,  and  its  triple  and  abundant  vocabulary  :  French,  Latin, 
German,  each  still  distinct  and  recognisable.  This  composite 
formation  made  it  possible  for  the  writer,  and  still  more  for  the 
poet,  to  give  his  style  an  absolutely  individual  colour  simply  by 
the  choice  of  words.  The  intermixture  and  varying  propor- 
tions of  these  three  elements  undoubtedly  furnished  a  long  and 
rich  gamut  of  colours.  The  language  of  a  Tennyson  or  a 
Miss  Martincau  can  be  recognised  and  appreciated  before  the 
force  of  their  thoughts  and  the  beauty  of  their  images  strike 
the  observer. 

After  the  first  literary  efflorescence  in  which  flowered, 
though  still  very  near  the  soil  and  the  roots,  the  light  blue  of 
Chaucer,  the  dark  violet  of  Langland,  and  the  sombre  red  of 
Wycliffe,  these  corollas  withered,  fell  off  and  were  not 
replaced.  A  sad  autumn  began,  prolonged  by  a  sterile  winter, 
in  which  all  vegetation  and  life  seemed  to  stop  ;  it  was  the 
fourteenth  century.  Then  suddenly  there  burst  out  on  the 
full-grown  stem,  in  a  magnificent  cluster,  the  genius  of 
Shakespeare,  and  the  literature  springing  from  the  same  afflux 
of  sap.  The  national  mind  had  definitely  taken  possession  of 
itself  during  its  long  sleep  ;  henceforth  it  produced  works 
of  extraordinary    individuality. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    INDIGENOUS    RACES 

I . — Agricultural  England. 

The  English  nation  had  no  longer  invasion  to  fear  ;  it  had  its 
own  language  and  institutions,  and  was  in  possession  of  its 
own  genius.  We  must  now  take  note  of  the  more  important 
characteristics  by  which  it  was  distinguished. 

After  1066  the  nation  began  to  lose  its  mihtary  character, 
and  to  acquire  the  habits  of  an  agricultural  population.  The 
Normans,  established  in  their  insular  territory,  began  to  mix 
with  the  Saxons.  At  the  end  of  a  century  and  a  half  the 
fusion  was  complete,  and  the  two  races  could  no  longer  be 
distinguished  one  from  the  other.  The  Continental  wars,  just 
commencing,  attracted  only  the  more  turbulent  of  the  barons  ; 
the  others  remained  at  home,  mixing  with  the  bulk  of  the 
people,  and,  like  them,  leading  an  entirely  rural  existence — a 
mode  of  life  which  gradually  altered  their  habits.  In  the 
fifteenth  century  even  foreigners  noticed  the  change.  Poggio 
writes,  "  After  the  French  come  the  inhabitants  of  Britain, 
who  are  now  called  the  English  ;  they  do  not  consider  it 
correct  for  a  noble  to  live  in  a  town  ;  they  all  live  shut  in  by 
their  fields,  forests,  and  pastures  ;  they  measure  nobility  by 
fortune,  and  concentrate  their  energies  on  the  cultivation  of 
the  land  ;  they  trade  in  wool  and  lambs,  and  see  nothing  im- 
proper in  sharing  the  profits  of  agriculture."  The  remnant 
of  the  ancient  nobility  perished  in  the  War  of  the  Roses,  and 

74 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  7S 

henceforward  the  gentleman  farmer  led  the  way.  No  rudiments 
of  manufacturing  industry  as  yet  existed  in  the  Island.  The 
English  sold  their  wool  to  the  Flemish,  and  received  manu- 
factured goods  in  exchange.  It  was  not  until  1589  that 
refugees  from  Flanders  began  to  teach  the  insular  workers  the 
art  of  manufacturing  woollen  goods.  The  Norwich  period 
now  commenced,  and  lasted  throughout  the  seventeenth 
century.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  first  motive  for  this  industry 
was  one  of  the  natural  products  of  British  soil,  and  that  prac- 
tically it  was  only  an  extension  of  the  agricultural  industry  : 
the  English  were  none  the  less  a  race  of  labourers  and  shef>- 
herds,  who  settled  for  the  most  part  in  the  South  of  England, 
and  were  remarkable  for  their  gaiety,  these  southern  counties 
becoming  the  Merry  England  of  the  chroniclers.  From  the 
documents  of  the  fifteenth  century  we  gather  that  they  dropped 
the  habit  of  intense  practical  work  and  led  a  life  wholly 
"  spiritual  and  refined."  In  nothing  that  we  know  of  them 
can  we  find  any  trace  of  the  continued  and  pertinacious  effort 
and  activity  which  distinguish  the  English  of  our  time. 

Some  are  pleased  to  say  that  the  English  in  all  ages  have 
proved  themselves  worthy  descendants  of  the  Vikings  of 
Norway,  and  that  the  rare  qualities  they  display  to-day  in 
commerce  and  navigation  are  the  heritage,  transmitted  from 
century  to  century,  of  this  race  of  heroes.  Nothing  could  be 
more  untrue.  The  Angles  and  Saxons,  in  whose  veins  flowed 
the  restless  blood  of  these  adventurers,  became  the  possessors  of 
an  extraordinarily  fertile  country,  and  eventually  succumbed 
to  the  temptation  of  a  tranquil  life  and  easily  attainable  riches. 
Some  centuries  later  we  cannot  but  be  astonished  at  the 
awkwardness  and  incuriosity  of  their  first  attempts  on  the  high 
seas — attempts  in  which  we  find  no  evidence  of  atavism  to 
experienced  pirates  or  the  premonition  of  a  great  future.  In 
the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  Henry  V.  borrowed  ships 
from  Holland  for  his  expeditions  against  France.  Prior  to  this 
epoch   the  country    had  no  navy  to   protect  her  coasts  ;  the 


ye  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

maritime  towns  protected  themselves  as  best  they  could.  The 
foreign  commerce  of  Great  Britain  was  entirely  in  the  hands 
of  the  Dutch,  the  Lombards  and  the  Hansards,  who  were 
attracted  by  the  bait  of  immunities  and  advantages  refused  to 
English  merchants  on  English  soil,  and  for  which  they  were 
not  indemnified  by  reciprocity  in  the  native  countries  of  the 
privileged  foreigners.  It  was  only  under  Richard  II.  that  there 
grew  up  a  desire  to  protect  the  British  flag  ;  but  the  measures 
taken  to  this  end  had  little  or  no  practical  effect  until  the  reign 
of  Henry  VII.  The  English  did  not  begin  to  colonise  until 
the  last  years  of  Elizabeth.  When  the  seventeenth  century 
opened  they  had  no  possessions  outside  Europe  ;  they  had 
allowed  themselves  to  be  outstripped  by  the  other  Powers  who 
bordered  the  Atlantic.  At  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century 
we  find  a  very  definite  statement  made  by  one  of  the  few  sea- 
faring men  the  country  possessed  at  that  time — Sir  Walter 
Raleigh.  The  English  navy,  he  writes,  cannot  enter  into 
comparison  with  that  of  the  Dutch.  "  Following  the  example 
of  the  ancient  city  of  Tyre  and  the  more  modern  Venice, 
Holland  has  become  the  storehouse  of  all  foreign  commodities, 
the  one  hundredth  part  of  which  are  not  used  in  the  country.  .  .  . 
They  come  to  trade  with  us  in  500  or  600  vessels  every  year, 
and  we  send  them  perhaps  thirty  or  forty.  The  Dutch  trade 
into  all  cities  and  port  towns  in  France,  and  we  with  five  or  six 
only.  .  .  .  They  have  of  their  own  as  many  vessels  as  eleven 
kingdoms  of  Christendom  have  and  build  a  thousand  ships  a 
year,  and  yet  there  is  not  one  tree  in  the  whole  country,  and 
their  products  would  not  fill  a  hundred  vessels."  This  passage 
is  all  the  more  significant  for  having  emanated  from  the  pen  of 
one  of  the  destroyers  of  the  invincible  Armada.  The  disper- 
sion of  the  Spanish  fleet  has  been  considered  by  more  than  one 
writer,  as  the  beginning  of  English  dominion  over  the  seas. 
This  is  a  grave  mistake.  It  was  the  tempest,  not  the  English 
or  Dutch  ships,  which  put  an  end  to  the  Armada.  The 
Lord   sent   His    wind  and  scattered  them.      Drake   was  only  a 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  77 

buccaneer,  who  abandoned  the  pursuit  as  soon  as  the  wind  got 
up  ;  and  when  nothing  remained  of  the  expedition  England 
was  left  with  the  feeling  of  a  Iiappy  chance  rather  than  the 
consciousness  of  true  maritime  K'tatncss. 


2. — Erighuid''s  Cotmncrce  and  Colonies.      The  Puritans. 

Two  notable  events  succeeded  in  changing  the  character  and 
destinies  of  England.  The  first  was  the  discovery  of  America 
in  1492.  Up  to  this  period  European  commerce  had  been 
concentrated  in  Genoa,  Pisa,  Florence,  Venice,  Augsburg, 
Troyes,  and  the  Hanse  towns  :  it  was  essentially  Mediterranean 
and  continental.  Columbus's  discovery  opened  new  markets  : 
it  became  oceanic,  and  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  five  Powers 
which  bordered  on  the  Atlantic.  This  displacement  was  quite 
natural ;  but  in  connection  with  it  one  fact  is  somewhat 
surprising.  Portugal  was  the  first  to  enter  on  the  scene  ;  then 
Spain,  then  Holland.  These  three  Powers  were  at  the  zenith 
of  their  colonial  prosperity  during  the  second  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  France  began  to  move  later,  but  even  then 
she  was  in  advance  of  England.  This  latter  country  was  the 
last  to  appear,  and  a  century  was  required  for  her  to  make  up 
for  lost  time.  It  was  only  at  the  Peace  of  Utrecht  in  171 3  that 
she  became  recognised  as  a  great  naval  Power  which  aspired  to 
the  dominion  of  the  seas. 

This  delay  was  the  more  surprising  because  England  was 
admirably  situated  to  profit  by  American  commerce.  Of  the 
five  Powers  whose  ports  opened  on  the  Atlantic,  she  was  the 
nearest  to  the  New  World.  Her  coastline  is  more  than  two 
thousand  miles  in  extent — nearly  double  that  of  the  shores  of 
France.  An  Englishman  set  down  anywhere  on  the  British 
mainland  would  never  be  more  than  twenty-five  leagues  from 
the  coast.  The  ports  are  numerous  ;  the  mouths  of  the  rivers 
form  deep  roadsteads.  The  tide  ascends  to  a  great  distance 
from  the  sea,  bringing  vessels  into  the  capital  as  far  as  London 


78  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

Bridge,  and  into  Bristol  three  leagues  beyond  the  point  of 
junction  of  the  Severn  and  the  Avon.  In  addition  to  these 
natural  advantages  there  were  other  circumstances  vv^hich,  in 
the  long  run,  would  infallibly  give  England  the  upper  hand  in 
a  struggle  for  possessions  beyond  the  seas.  Portugal  and 
Holland  have  Continental  bases  too  circumscribed  to  seat  a  great 
colonial  Empire.  Spain  and  France  were  divided  between  two 
interests  :  the  Continental  interest,  which  was  the  mainspring 
of  their  politics  ;  and  the  colonial  interest,  which  simply 
furnished  them  with  extra  supplies.  It  was  of  far  more 
consequence  to  a  Spaniard  to  preserve  his  Italian  possessions 
than  to  augment  his  possessions  in  America.  It  was  far  less 
important  to  France  to  create  an  empire  on  the  St.  Lawrence 
than  to  extend  her  empire  in  Europe  as  far  as  the  Rhine  or  the 
Pyrenees,  thereby  filling  in  Nature's  framework.  From  all 
these  points  of  view  England  had  obvious  advantages.  She 
had  the  extent  and  heart  of  a  great  Power.  For  centuries  she 
had  occupied  the  whole  of  her  island  ;  there  was  nothing  more 
to  covet,  for  her  limits  were  natural  ones.  She  could  not 
extend  her  boundaries,  and  to  aggrandise  herself,  what  was 
there  she  could  demand  on  the  Continent  in  the  sphere  of 
influence  of  one  of  the  great  European  States  ?  When  the 
hour  of  division  came  she  was  therefore  forced  to  cast  her  eyes 
on  some  colonial  possession.  It  was  ceded  to  her  without 
regret,  and  once  ceded  was  too  far  removed  to  be  worth  the 
trouble  of  taking  back.  England,  it  might  be  said,  was  fated 
to  see  her  possessions  beyond  the  seas  suddenly  growing  ;  in 
spite  of  herself  she  was  thrust  into  the  role  of  a  great  colonial 
Power. 

We  may  therefore  be  somewhat  surprised  that  the  seven- 
teenth century  should  have  come  and  gone  before  England  was 
installed  and  recognised  in  her  position  of  aspirant  to  the 
dominion  of  the  seas.  As  we  have  said,  in  1600  she  had  no 
possessions  outside  Europe.  During  the  first  half  of  the 
century,  the  occupation  of  New  England  and  the  growth  of 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  79 

Virginia  were  chiefly  owing  to  the  persecutions  which,  in  turns, 
rendered  England  uninhabitable  for  the  Puritans  and  the 
Cavaliers.  The  grant  to  Lord  Baltimore  of  a  fief  in  Maryland 
can  hardly  be  counted  among  the  enterprises  stamped  with  the 
true  colonial  spirit.  The  restless  spirit  of  the  age  caused  men 
to  make  up  their  minds  and  act  with  promptitude.  In  the  year 
1625  the  number  and  variety  of  publications  on  commerce 
were  extraordinary.  The  effect  was  soon  seen  ;  from  1590  to 
1 64 1  the  Custom  House  duties  rose  from  ^14,000  to 
_^ 500,000.  A  new  era  began  with  the  Act  of  Navigation, 
In  spite  of  more  than  one  annulment  and  amendment,  this  Act 
had  the  direct  effect  of  suppressing  the  profitable  monopoly  of 
the  coasting  trade  which  the  Low  Countries  carried  on  with 
the  English  ports,  and  of  chasing  away  the  hardy  bands  of 
Dutch  fishermen  who  cast  their  nets  round  the  shores  of  Great 
Britain,  selling  in  the  very  country  itself  the  fish  which  the 
inhabitants  had  not  as  yet  thought  of  disputing  with  them. 
The  acquisition  of  Jamaica  rendered  the  last  years  of  Cromwell 
illustrious  ;  it  was  confirmed  under  Charles  II.  in  1670.  In 
the  time  of  the  two  Stuarts  the  greater  part  of  the  coastline 
between  Massachusetts  and  Virginia  was  conquered  by  the 
English,  who  established  themselves  in  New  York,  Delaware, 
New  Jersey,  and  Pennsylvania.  Colonisation  had  not,  as  yet, 
been  begun  in  other  parts.  Bombay,  ceded  to  Charles  II.  in 
1 66 1,  was  practically  the  only  settlement  of  the  East  India 
Company  ;  and  Fort  William,  in  1688,  gave  little  indication 
of  the  immense  development  of  Calcutta  in  the  near  future. 
It  is  difficult  to  understand  this  slow  progress  on  the  part  of  a 
people  endowed,  in  an  unusual  degree,  with  the  necessary 
qualifications. 

However,  other  significant  facts  explain  why  the  work  of 
colonisation  was  retarded.  The  law  with  regard  to  landed 
property,  for  example,  was  adapted  to  the  requirements  of  an 
agricultural  population.  Whilst  the  Dutchman,  when  short  of 
money,  easily  mortgaged  his  domain,  his  neighbours  found  it 


8o  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

very  difficult — indeed,  almost  impossible — to  raise  a  mortgage. 
In  Holland,  money  could  be  borrowed  at  3  per  cent.,  and  even 
less.  In  England,  the  legal  and  actual  interest  was  8  per  cent. 
The  sole  money-lenders  of  the  kings  were  the  goldsmiths,  and 
it  was  not  until  1694  that,  by  the  founding  of  the  Bank  of 
England,  they  were  able  to  obtain  larger  amounts  than  the  sum 
of  one  year's  revenue.  England  had,  as  it  were,  by  breaking 
the  chain  of  venerable  habits,  made  a  past  for  these  new 
traditions.  The  transformation  was  complete  in  1700.  For  a 
certain  period  the  English  had  the  same  sovereign  as  the  Dutch. 
They  were  able  to  study  at  first  hand  and  to  imitate  the 
methods  of  this  leading  mercantile  nation.  When  the  link  was 
broken,  Amsterdam  ceased  to  be  the  commercial  capital  of  the 
world,  and  London  soon  succeeded  her.  Henceforward  Holland 
steadily  declined,  and  in  the  struggle  which  ensued  between 
France  and  Great  Britain  she  took  little  part.  France  in  her 
turn  was  conquered  and  despoiled  :  one  after  the  other  she 
yielded  up  Acadia,  Canada  and  the  Empire  of  the  Indies,  and 
could  no  longer  be  reckoned  as  a  colonial  Power  of  the  first 
rank.  England  stood  alone  and  without  a  rival.  In  17 1 3  her 
supremacy  was  recognised,  but  she  had  as  yet  only  her  equal 
share  in  the  possessions  over-seas.  In  1763  the  equilibrium 
was  destroyed  ;  outside  Europe  the  Spanish  colonies  alone 
rivalled  in  greatness  those  of  the  British  Empire.  This  result 
was  not  attained  merely  by  treaties  following  on  memorable 
wars  ;  England  meanwhile  had  traversed  seas  hitherto  unknown 
and  established  flourishing  settlements  which  linked  her  store- 
houses together,  and  consolidated  her  dominion. 

By  degrees  there  grew  up  a  race  composed  of  bold  sailors, 
intrepid  colonists,  and  merchants  eager  for  gain  ;  honest  in 
trade,  because  good  faith  is  a  condition  of  commerce,  dishonest 
in  everything  else  ;  heedless  of  their  obligations  to  other  powers, 
and  inhuman  and  cruel  beyond  all  expression.  Under 
Cromwell  they  prepared  an  expedition  with  the  avowed  object 
of  taking  the  Spanish  galleons  by  surprise,  and  chance  only 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  8i 

hindered  its  fulfilment.  Simultaneously  with  the  peace  of 
Utrecht,  they  concluded  with  Spain  the  treaty  of  Assiento,  by 
which  the  slave  trade  with  the  Spanish  colonies  passed  into 
their  hands  ;  and  on  this  trade  they  based  the  whole  of  their 
policy  during  the  eighteenth  century.  This  race,  unknown  in 
preceding  generations,  embarked  upon  a  career  of  unbridled 
pride  and  insatiable  avidity  ;  and  the  spirit  which  animated  and 
sustained  them  now  inspires,  after  a  period  of  stagnation  and 
doubt,  what  we  call  imperialism.  They  were  persuaded  of  their 
vocation  to  the  empire  of  the  seas  and  expressed  it  with  a  naive 
and  brutal  arrogance,  sincerely  believing  that  to  come  under 
English  dominion  was  for  any  barbarous  country  a  normal 
event,  and  the  happiest  that  could  befall  it.  To  them  there 
was  something  more  important  than  the  spirit  and  letter  of 
treaties  ;  viz.,  the  necessity,  which  they  proclaimed  upon  the 
housetops,  that  the  English  should  hold  sway  in  certain  parts  of 
the  earth.  The  highest  aim  of  their  missionaries  was,  not  to 
convert  the  heathen,  but  to  place  them  under  the  protection  of 
a  people  chosen  by  God.  The  sudden  explosion  of  these 
sentiments  was  the  result  of  two  centuries  of  preparation,  which 
had  wrought  up  to  the  highest  degree  of  intensity  passions  to 
which  England,  prior  to  1500,  had  been  absolutely  a  stranger. 
But  it  was  not  external  conditions  alone  which  had  an  effect 
on  the  nation,  furnishing  the  mould  for  a  new  race  ;  another 
cause  intervened,  which  operated  in  the  depths  of  the  individual 
conscience.  This  cause,  which  altered  men's  outlook  on  the 
world,  toleration  of  human  passions,  and  acceptance  of  life  and 
of  death,  was  the  Reformation.  It  too  created  a  new  people, 
composed  of  all  those  who  came  under  its  influence.  This 
extraordinary  growth  was  not  due  to  Anglicanism,  for  that 
had  not  the  requisite  efficacy.  In  the  beginning  Anglicanism 
was  merely  an  expedient  for  passing  the  authority  of  the  Church 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  Pope  into  those  of  the  King.  All  that 
was  possible  was  retained  from  Catholicism — the  episcopal 
hierarchy,  the  apostolic  transmission,  and  a  large  number    of 

G 


82  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

rites.  For  the  greater  security,  a  minimum  of  Calvinism  was 
introduced,  as  a  guarantee  and  safeguard  against  a  return  to 
Papistry.  Anglicanism  was,  in  the  main,  merely  a  more  or  less 
reasonable  compromise,  a  religion  of  gentlemen  and  men  of  the 
world  who  required  a  certain  luxury  of  collective  ceremonies  to 
fill  the  place  of  the  individual  faith  so  often  absent,  and  who 
attached  themselves  to  a  liturgy  in  order  to  retain  the  illusion 
that  they  believed  in  something.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  two 
phases  of  belief  into  which  the  extreme  forms  of  Anglicanism 
have  constantly  been  tempted  to  resolve,  are  on  the  one  side 
Puseyism  and  even  Catholicism,  and  on  the  other  the  Broad 
Church  :  on  the  one  side  a  poetic  flight  which  led  the  English 
back  to  the  ancient  institutions  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
cenobitical  life,  the  care  of  the  poor,  and,  first  and  foremost, 
the  antiquity  of  tradition  ;  on  the  other,  a  positive  mind,  which, 
in  enlarging  its  doctrines,  impaired  their  foundations,  leaving 
only  vain  symbols  standing.  Thus  the  natural  tendency  of 
Anglicanism  was  not  to  fortify  belief,  but  rather  to  weaken  it, 
as  was  rendered  peculiarly  obvious  by  the  perseverance  with 
which  it  repulsed  Wesley.  Of  the  two  sides  its  instinctive 
inclination  is,  either  to  stifle  faith  under  forms  to  which 
tradition  alone  lent  some  life,  or  to  ruin  it  by  an  analysis  which 
leaves  only  the  empty  moulds  standing. 

Very  different  was  the  effect  of  Puritanism,  of  the  Baptists, 
and  some  of  the  other  reformed  sects.  Puritanism  was,  above 
all  things,  religious  individualism.  What  the  Independents 
most  vehemently  rejected  was  the  yoke  of  the  State,  the' 
control  of  a  civil  power  which  regarded  itself  as  holder  and 
dispenser  of  the  truth.  The  idea  of  a  material  authority 
clumsily  and  brutally  handling  a  man's  most  sacred  feelings 
and  personal  convictions  inspired  them  with  a  sort  of  horror. 
Therefore  it  is  by  no  means  astonishing  to  find  nothing  among 
them  resembling  a  profession  of  faith.  They  did  not  conceive 
one  Church,  but  Churches  ;  and  if  on  one  occasion,  at  the 
Conference  of   Savoy,   they    hazarded  a  sort    of    confessional 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  83 

declaration,  it  might  have  been  asked  what  power  would  be 
sufficiently  well  equipped  to  constrain  a  congregation  which 
had  sincerely  seceded  from  it.  Thus  the  Puritan  realised  this 
antinomy  :  to  have  a  common  faith  which  linked  him  to  other 
men,  and  which  permitted  numerous  congregations  all  over  the 
country  to  hear  the  same  name,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
preserve  the  local  and  individual  character  of  this  faith,  making 
it  so  personal  and  intimate  an  operation  of  each  conscience, 
that  it  seemed  to  owe  nothing  to  tradition.  The  Baptists 
went  even  further.  They  recognised  as  a  supreme  guide, 
sudden  inspiration,  the  direct  calling  of  the  heart  by  God 
Flimself. 

But  it  was  not  only  his  jealous  love  of  independence  which 
distinguished  the  Puritan  and  constituted  his  strength  ;  it  was 
the  intensity  of  his  faith,  the  omnipresence  of  a  belief  which 
coloured  his  whole  life  and  interposed  at  every  turn.  This  it 
was  which  made  the  Puritan  an  incomparable  colonist. 
Doubtless  his  belief  did  not  render  him  exceptionally  apt  at 
ploughing  a  furrow,  housing  his  corn,  and  making  exact 
calculations,  but  it  gave  him  a  moral  stamina  which  was 
always  perceptible  under  his  qualities  as  a  man  of  business. 
The  emigrant  launched  himself  upon  the  unknown  ;  with 
him  was  God  his  Saviour.  He  could  face  death  with  serenity  ; 
it  had  no  terrors  for  him.  Life  appeared  to  him  as  a  suc- 
cession of  duties  which  could  be  fulfilled  without  scenic 
effects,  or  a  thought  as  to  what  the  world  would  say.  It  was 
sufficient  if  God  and  his  ever-present  conscience  were  satisfied. 
Of  such  individuals  as  this  was  that  Puritan  stock  constituted 
which  had  so  large  a  share  in  the  building  up  of  American 
greatness.  We  cannot  follow  their  progress  in  history  for 
two  or  three  centuries,  beginning  with  the  landing  of  the 
M.a\Jiowcr^  without  feelijig  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  a 
young  or  rejuvenated  race,  which  had  drawn  an  austere 
freshness  of  impression,  a  vigour,  constancy,  and  unusual 
tenacity  from  the   revived  source  of  Christianity.     Before  and 


84  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

after  the  Declaration  of  Independence  they  were  everywhere 
to  be  found  ;  foremost  in  emigration  and  colonisation,  and  in 
the  front  of  every  enterprise,  a  part  of  the  ferment  of  the 
New  World.  There  is  no  exaggeration  in  saying  that 
Puritanism,  the  creed  of  the  Baptists,  and,  later,  Presby- 
terianism  and  Wesleyanism,  were  pre-eminently  the  creeds  of 
the  emigrants.  The  population  of  the  New  World,  and  of 
the  English  possessions  outside  Europe,  was  made  up  for  the 
most  part  of  these  Dissenters.  The  Wesleyans  and  the 
Baptists  are  relatively  small  communities  in  England ;  but 
they  are  in  reality  immense  communities,  the  greatness  of 
which  can  only  be  appreciated  when  they  convoke  a  meeting 
in  London  of  the  delegates  of  their  adherents  all  the  world 
over.  At  such  times  they  must  be  recognised  as  a  special  race 
which,  originating  in  the  Reformation,  took  upon  itself  the 
work  of  colonisation  and  made  it  a  success,  where,  at  the  same 
epoch,  and  on  the  same  territory,  the  French  and  the  Spanish 
failed.  In  the  Mother  Country,  where  they  have  remained  in 
the  minority,  they  constitute  a  serious,  ardent,  and  earnest 
element,  which  had  formerly  been  lacking  in  Merry  England. 
How  can  we  estimate  and  gauge  the  efficacy  of  this  new 
element  ?  It  can  be  done  by  comparing  England  as  a 
colonising  power,  for  the  most  part  Puritan,  with  Spain, 
obdurately  impregnated  with  Catholicism  and  Jesuitism. 
Spain  no  longer  added  to  the  immense  empire  she  had  con- 
quered, even  allowing  portions  to  slip  out  of  her  hands.  Gold 
and  spices  were  all  she  obtained  from  it,  and  the  chief  feature 
of  the  government  she  imposed  on  the  native  population  was 
passive  obedience.  Thus  she  renounced  progress.  With 
England,  the  reverse  was  the  case.  Her  emigrant  was  a  man 
who  had  escaped  from  the  prison  called  civilised  society  ;  who 
had  broken  all  the  bonds  which  attached  him  to  the  State  and 
ecclesiastical  authority ;  who  was  free,  save,  perhaps,  for  the  ties 
he  himself  had  formed.  For  tiie  first  time  social  obligations 
seemed    on  the    point    of    being    recognised.       This    brusque 


THE  INDIGENOU'S  RACES  85 

individuality,  this  personality  all  angles  and  corners,  made  a 
compact  with  his  fellows  to  respect  the  rights  of  each 
individual.  In  the  beginning  this  compact  was  confined 
to  a  parish,  and  thus  the  emigrants  lived  for  a  time  ;  then 
one  parish  combined  with  another,  separated  again,  reunited, 
and  finally  the  State  was  formed.  We,  on  the  contrary,  find 
already  formed  the  State  of  which  we  are  to  become  part  ; 
they  were  anterior  and  superior  to  their  State,  and  made  a 
place  for   it,   whereas  our  State  makes  a  place  for  us. 


3. — IVesJey.      Industrial  England. 

After  the  Restoration  the  favourites  of  Charles  II.  returned 
from  exile  with  an  ungovernable  desire  for  enjoyment,  and 
abandoned  themselves  to  it  without  restraint.  Society  adopted 
the  tone  of  a  courtesan  ;  the  contagion  spread  little  by  little, 
and  even  the  chief  citizens  were  affected  by  it.  It  was  a 
period  of  licence,  cynicism,  and  utter  impiety.  Noncon- 
formity, compromised  by  the  revolutionary  excesses,  had  lost 
its  hold  on  the  hearts  of  the  people.  The  inferior  classes, 
terribly  ignorant,  opposed  a  wall  of  stupidity  to  all  spiritual 
teaching.  "In  England  there  is  no  religion  at  all,"  Montes- 
quieu said  ;  and  Voltaire  wrote  about  the  same  time,  "They  are 
so  lukewarm  in  England  that  a  new  or  revived  religion  would 
have  only  the  shadow  of  a  chance."  It  was  at  this  juncture 
that  Wesley  appeared.  It  is  curious  that  the  movement  to 
which  he  gave  his  name  took  its  rise  in  the  bosom  of  Angli- 
canism, i.e.^  a  communion  in  which  faith  and  piety  no  longer 
existed.  Wesley  undertook  to  restore  these  virtues  without 
changing  its  articles  of  faith,  or  establishing  a  new  sect.  With 
laudable  obstinacy  he  refused  to  separate  himself  from  the 
Established  Church.  He  began  by  soliciting  the  favour  of 
permission  to  preach  in  the  Anglican  places  of  worship,  and 
would  not  be  rebuffed  by  the  contemptuous  refusals  his  sugges- 
tion  received.      Later   on,   when    he  did  organise    a    separate 


86  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

foundation  for  his  numerous  followers,  he  would  not  allow  the 
sacraments  to  be  administered  to  them  in  the  Wesleyan 
chapels  ;  they  had  to  demand  and  receive  them  in  the 
churches  dependent  on  the  State.  It  was  not  until  four  years 
after  his  death  that,  owing  to  the  stubborn  ill-will  of  the  bishops, 
the  council  which  exercised  the  powers  of  government  in 
Wesley's  stead  allowed  the  communion  to  be  administered  to 
those  who  expressed  a  desire  to  receive  it  ;  but  even  this 
permission  was  accorded  with  hesitation  and  extreme  caution. 

Wesley  was  neither  an  heresiarch  nor  the  founder  of  a  sect. 
He  did  not  hold  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Established  Church. 
He  paid  no  heed  to  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  apparently  ignoring 
their  existence.  He  always  refused  to  give  a  profession  of 
faith  to  his  followers  in  England.  When  he  felt  it  incumbent 
upon  him  to  draw  one  up  for  the  United  States,  he  contented 
himself  with  cutting  out  the  dogmatic  part  of  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles,  and  arranging  the  remainder  as  well  as  he  could  in 
the  form  of  a  declaration.  Orthodoxy,  he  said,  cannot  trans- 
form the  moral  being ;  rather  is  it  the  transformed  moral 
being  which  confers  a  value  on  orthodoxy.  Hence  it  is 
man  himself  and  the  force  of  his  conviction  which  give  a 
high  significance  to  faith.  The  important  point  is  to  renew 
the  living  sources  of  piety,  not  to  be  over-particular  regarding 
the  terms  of  a  declaration  of  belief.  Moreover,  all  extreme 
opinions  were  repugnant  to  Wesley.  On  the  one  hand  he 
repudiated  antinomianism,  and  the  quietism  of  the  Moravians  ; 
and,  on  the  other,  the  exaggerated  Calvinism  of  Whitefield. 
Religion,  as  conceived  by  him,  free  from  all  subtlety  and 
theological  singularity,  could  be  understood  even  by  the 
simplest  intelligences,  and  was  specially  adapted  to  the  men  of 
the  middle  and  lower  classes  to  whom  he  addressed  his 
teaching. 

The  fate  of  the  Reformation,  and  consequently  of  England 
herself,  was  hanging  in  the  balance.  If  the  Anglican  Church 
had   yielded   to  the  solicitations  of  Wesley  and  given  him  the 


THE  INDIGENOU.S  RACES  87 

charge  of  a  parish,  there  would  have  been  an  end  to  the  great 
movement  vi^hich  w^as  to  originate  u^ith  him  and  make  his 
name  illustrious.  The  narrow-mindedness  and  obstinacy  of 
the  Anglicans  decided  it  otherwise.  Wesley  was  forced  to 
organise  the  multitude  of  the  faithful  who  trod  in  his  footsteps 
outside  the  Established  Church,  and  he  did  it  freely  and  fully. 
He  had  no  ecclesiastical  habits  to  overcome  when  he  formed 
the  corps  of  itinerant  ministers  who  had  the  universe  for  a 
parish,  and  hardly  knew  in  the  morning  where,  when  the 
evening  came,  they  would  lay  their  heads.  Truly  it  was 
necessary  that  these  men,  to  whom  were  shut  the  doors  of 
every  place  of  worship  with  roof  and  walls,  should  resign 
themselves  to  speak  to  the  people  in  the  fields  and  at  the 
crossways.  Finally,  Wesley  did  not  associate  himself,  for  the 
purpose  of  preaching,  even  with  the  auxiliary  laity  who,  in 
time,  played  so  considerable  a  part  in  the  Church  ;  they, 
doubtless,  would  have  been  turned  aside  by  the  prejudice  of 
custom  and  the  jealousy  of  class  if  Wesley  had  been  forced 
into  the  position  of  putting  them  to  the  proof.  In  short,  he 
set  to  work  to  establish  the  communion  of  his  followers  as  he 
would  have  done,  not  for  a  dissenting  Church,  but  for  a  great 
society  of  religious  propaganda  ;  and  on  it  he  expended  his 
indefatigable  energy  and  his  talent  for  organisation.  The 
three  great  innovations  of  which  I  have  spoken  were  institu- 
tions obviously  adapted  to  a  period  of  missions,  an  apostleship 
amongst  a  xxqw  people,  the  United  States  of  America  for 
instance,  where,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  have  been  preserved, 
whilst  in  England  they  became  modified,  and  gradually  gave 
rise  to  the  regular  medium  of  a  Church. 

It  was  not  to  the  frivolous  and  corrupt  upper  classes  that 
Wesley  addressed  his  teaching,  but  rather  to  the  middle  classes, 
and  more  especially  to  artisans.  Amongst  them  he  found  a 
virgin  force,  a  singular  emotional  activity,  and  an  ingenuous- 
ness which  no  objections  could  trouble  nor  hinder  in  a  desire 
for    belief;    qualities    which,  maintained    by   an  absolute    and 


88  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

sovereign  ignorance,  caused  him  to  disdain  reason  and  ignore 
science.  It  was,  moreover,  a  fact  eminently  characteristic  of 
England  that  in  1740  a  man  as  eminent  as  Wesley,  destined  to 
exercise  a  profound  influence  both  on  his  ow^n  century  and 
afterwards,  could  be  so  entirely  destitute  of  all  scientific  know- 
ledge, so  impervious  to  all  argument  and  refutation  dictated 
either  by  good  sense  or  mental  culture.  Wesley  played  his 
part  in  the  world  to  the  accompaniment  of  miracles,  visions 
and  revelations  from  afar.  His  preachings  on  hell  and 
damnation  provoked  in  his  audiences  nervous  seizure,  convul- 
sions and  hysteria  :  these  he  witnessed  without  disturbance  or 
disgust,  and  with  an  invincible  self-confidence.  Satan  occupied 
a  large  place  in  his  thoughts  ;  he  frequently  declared  he 
believed  in  magic  ;  accusations  against  witches  did  not 
displease  him,  rather  the  contrary.  Lastly,  the  extreme 
narrowness  of  his  mind  was  manifested  in  his  criticisms  of 
the  antique  statues  representing  images  of  the  gods.  Such 
ideas  readily  take  root  in  virgin  and  uncultivated  minds,  side 
by  side  with  two  beliefs  which  continue  to  exist  even  when 
education  has  done  its  work,  viz.,  a  belief  in  sin  and  in  justifi- 
cation by  faith.  Though  exposed  in  the  beginning  to  the 
railleries  and  contempt  of  the  upper  classes,  Wesley  eventually 
obtained  a  certain  authority  over  them  by  his  tenacity  and 
conscientious  perseverance.  During  an  existence,  the  active 
part  of  which  lasted  for  more  than  fifty  years,  his  sincerity  and 
earnestness  knew  no  change  ;  and  this  it  was  which  won  the 
heart  of  the  English  and  convinced  them  more  than  the  most 
weighty  arguments  could  have  done.  Wesley  and  his  followers 
founded  in  Wales,  England,  the  United  States  and  Canada  a 
great  Church  numbering  four  million  believers,  and  influencing 
more  than  twenty  million  people.  Its  progress  has  been  con- 
tinuous. But  what  was  more  decisive  still  was  the  change  this 
serious  conception  and  clear  view  of  life  made  even  in  those 
who  did  not  participate  in  it  :  the  upper  classes,  who,  by 
reason  of  the  superficial  idea  they  had  formed  of  the  spiritual 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  89 

world,  found  facile  reasons  for  disdaining  these  austere  and 
smileless  men,  little  by  little  changed  their  tone  when  they 
came  into  contact  with  Wcsleyan  gravity.  Even  without 
leaving  their  own  Church  they  began  to  understand  its 
teachings  ;  their  ministers  had  more  trouble  in  dealing  with 
their  awakened  consciences,  and  gradually  the  English 
became  the  reflective,  serious  and  sincere  people  whom  we 
have  learned  to  esteem.  In  this  sense  we  can  say  that  the 
Reformation  of  Wesley  created  a  new  race  of  men,  very 
different,  in  truth,  from  that  known  to  a  Bolingbroke  or  a 
Fielding. 

Parallel  with  this  moral  and  inner  revolution  was  an  out- 
ward one  equally  remarkable  in  its  results,  viz.,  the  industrial 
revolution  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  1600  England  ceased 
to  be  a  purely  agricultural  country  ;  she  became  mercantile 
and  colonising.  Shortly  before  1800  her  transformation  was 
complete  ;  her  characteristics  were  more  than  ever  those  of  a 
pastoral  people.  The  160,000  petty  proprietors,  who,  with 
their  families  made  up  a  seventh  of  the  total  population,  were 
gradually  eliminated  :  the  bailiffs  of  the  great  lords  seduced 
them  with  advantageous  offers,  and  soon  the  immense  fields  of 
the  lat'ifundia  covered  the  ground  but  lately  occupied  by  the 
habitations  of  a  vanished  race.  On  the  other  hand,  this 
change  in  the  ownership  of  the  land  threw  out  of  work  a  large 
number  of  people  who  turned  for  employment  to  the  manu- 
facturing industry.  This  industry  assumed  an  entirely 
different  aspect  ;  the  prospect  of  a  steady  wage  attracted  to  it 
the  miserable  labourers  who  had  hitherto  partly  subsisted  on 
alms.  The  discoveries  of  Kay  and  Arkwright  had  substituted 
the  weaving  machine  for  the  loom,  the  apparatus  worked  by 
steam  for  that  put  in  motion  by  the  energy  of  man  ;  large 
sections  of  the  working  population,  clustered  around  the 
horizontal  shaft  and  living  on  their  wages,  for  the  various 
labourers  scattered  about  the  country  and  subsisting  chiefly  on 
the  products  of  their  plot  of  ground.     A  class  sprang  up  which 


90  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

rapidly  peopled  a  part  of  England  that  had  hitherto  lain  waste. 
In  1685  there  were  only  four  towns  besides  London,  which 
had  more  than  ten  thousand  inhabitants  :  Bristol,  Exeter, 
Norwich,  and  York,  all  in  the  south  or  east  of  England. 
This  new  class,  on  the  other  hand,  settled  in  the  midlands  and 
north,  in  villages  hitherto  nameless,  or  in  fresh  districts  : 
Birmingham,  Manchester,  and  Liverpool — to  name  simply  the 
three  greatest  urban  agglomerations — became  centres  of 
teeming  life,  where  work  was  done  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and 
human  intercourse  was  continuous.  Personal  matters  were  the 
chief  topic  of  conversation,  and  they  all  held  themselves  on  the 
defensive  ;  they  had  something  to  say  on  spiritual  matters  ;  they 
formed  their  own  conception  of  their  duties,  rights  and  dignity, 
surrounding  it  with  an  atmosphere  of  religion,  and  blending 
with  it  an  afterthought  for  their  health.  They  were  English, 
i.e.j  they  needed  a  Church  of  their  own,  distinct  from  that  of 
the  other  classes.  They  welcomed  Independent,  Wesleyan, 
and  Baptist  ministers,  who  adapted  their  teachings  to  their  new 
followers.  A  certain  earnestness  and  ingenuous  faith  took  root 
in  their  hearts,  together  with  a  dislike  for  rites  and  ceremonies, 
a  sort  of  iconoclastic  superstition.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
century  the  transformation  was  accomplished  :  England  was  a 
different  country,  inhabited  by  a  population  whose  existence 
had  hitherto  been  unsuspected,  and  whose  position  in  fifty  years 
had  become  consolidated  even  to  the  shores  of  the  great  British 
Isle.  This  new  England  came  forward  with  economic  condi- 
tions, political  pretensions,  moral  customs,  a  religious  ideal,  a 
conscience  and  virtues  which  had  hitherto  been  ignored  by  the 
rest  of  the  country  :  truly  it  was  a  new  race  grafted  on  to  the 
old  one.  I  can  only  compare  it  to  a  colony  of  emigrants,  who, 
after  settling  themselves  over-seas  in  a  sparsely  populated 
country,  and  adopting  a  mode  of  existence  for  which  they  had 
no  precedent,  social  customs  unknown  in  the  old  world,  and  a 
conception  of  life  from  a  new  point  of  view,  were  suddenly 
re-united  to  the  mother  country  in  consequence  of  a  geological 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  91 

upheaval,  and  became  so  completely  a  part  of  her  that  their 
general  interests  and  government  merged  into  one. 


4. — Wales^  Scotland^  and  Ireland. 

The  last  influence  apparently  exercised  over  England  was 
that  of  the  Celtic  populations,  who  had  fallen  under  her 
dominion  and  made  part  of  the  same  insular  group,  Wales 
and  Scotland,  as  it  were,  adhere  to  the  flanks  of  the  English 
mainland  ;  Ireland  is  only  separated  by  a  narrow  channel. 
These  three  countries  are  concealed  and  cut  off  from  other 
nations  by  the  vast  triangle  interposed  between  them  and 
Europe.  The  ocean  completes  their  isolation.  Geography 
and  history  have  spared  them  a  tete-a-tete  of  several  centuries 
with  their  powerful  and  only  neighbour.  Scotland  is  the  one 
exception  to  the  rule  :  she  has  had  some  relations  with 
France  ;  but  the  fusion  of  races  by  the  mingling  of  men  ought 
to  have  taken  place  .chiefly  in  England. 

It  is  rather  singular  that  these  conditions,  so  favourable  to 
reciprocity,  and,  in  the  long  run,  close  union  between  the 
vanquished  peoples  and  their  conquerors,  should  have  had  such 
abortive  and  tardy  results.  We  find  a  reason  for  it  in  the 
character  of  the  Englishman.  Let  us  take  these  peoples  in 
their  own  countries,  as  the  Englishman  has  had  to  do  ;  it  is 
easy  to  see  that  what  is  most  characteristic  in  his  ideas, 
feelings,  and  habits  of  life  has  had  no  serious  influence  on  the 
Scotch,  Welsh,  or  Irish.  The  Englishman  is  haughty  and 
taciturn  ;  he  does  not  voluntarily  explain  the  reason  of  his 
actions  ;  he  has  no  pity  nor  sympathy,  he  is  even  deficient  in 
good  manners  and  good  temper.  He  docs  not  possess  that 
indescribable  amiability  and  charm  which  characterise  a 
Frenchman's  every  action,  and  any  evidence  he  may  give  of 
redeeming  qualities  is  discounted  by  his  arrogant  and  con- 
temptuous manner.  The  effect  of  general  civilisation  has  been 
felt  in  the  three  countries  ;    during  the  last  century  they  have 


92  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

progressed  in  their  relations  with  England  because  they  have 
progressed  in  their  relations  with  the  whole  world.  These 
peoples  have  grown  to  resemble  each  other  ;  but  the  influence 
of  the  English  has  had  no  part  in  the  transformation  ;  even 
now  they  excite  the  same  dislike  and  encounter  the  same 
opposition  as  in  the  past. 

This  is  markedly  evident  throughout  the  entire  history  of 
Ireland.  The  Englishman  established  himself  in  that  country 
by  force,  and,  significant  fact,  governs  it  by  force.  He  began 
by  driving  the  Irish  back  beyond  the  pale,  and  a  little  later 
became  master  of  the  whole  island.  He  cemented  his 
dominion  under  Elizabeth  and  Cromwell  by  conscientious 
massacres.  On  the  field  of  battle  he  made  no  prisoners  ;  he 
hunted  the  fugitives  like  wild  beasts,  and  transported  the 
inhabitants  of  an  entire  district  to  Barbadoes  as  slaves.  It  was 
a  war  of  extermination.  The  virile  and  adult  portion  of  the 
population  almost  entirely  disappeared,  and  after  every  rebellion 
the  nation  took  longer  to  recover  itself.  At  these  crises  the 
language  retrograded,  and  eventually  made  way  for  the 
English  lanp;uao:e,  all  the  o:rown  men  and  old  men,  who  could 
speak  it  and  teach  it  to  their  children,  having  been  killed.  It 
rested  with  England  to  conciliate  by  good  treatment  all  the 
survivors  of  the  vanquished  race,  making  of  them  a  new 
people,  more  susceptible  to  the  attraction  of  a  superior 
civilisation  than  to  the  remembrance  of  an  ancient  enmity. 
This  the  Englishman  did  not  attempt,  and  would  not  have 
succeeded  in  doing.  He  could  never  bring  himself  to  imitate 
the  familiarity  and  easy  good  nature  of  the  Irishman  ;  he  has 
always  considered  the  conquered  nation  as  an  inferior  and  con- 
temptible race,  who  could  only  be  maintained  in  subjection  by 
a  code  of  barbarous  laws  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  place  it 
outside  the  pale  of  common  equity.  It  has  never  for  a 
moment  occurred  to  him  that  this  system  of  extreme 
oppression,  instead  of  suppressing  smouldering  rebellion,  main- 
tains, perpetuates,  and    exasperates    its    causes.     Besides    this, 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  93 

private  spoliations  and  legal  confiscations  and  dispossessions 
extending  sometimes  to  a  whole  district,  have  gradually 
reduced  the  masters  of  the  soil  to  the  condition  of  simple 
proletarians  who  can  no  longer  dwell  on  the  lands  of  their 
fathers  save  by  cultivating  them  on  behalf  of  the  stranger  lord. 
This  eviction  has  been  so  general  that  there  are  very  few  old 
Irish  families  who  now  own  a  portion  of  the  national  territory. 
Tiiose  who  still  live  on,  cultivating  their  land  for  the  usurper, 
feel  in  the  depths  of  their  hearts  that  they  are  the  lawful 
owners,  and  that  the  day  must  come  when  the  estates  of  their 
ancestors  will  again  be  theirs,  and  they  will  chase  away  the 
insolent  possessors  of  the  hour.  Thus  they  continue  to  exist, 
a  dull  anger  burning  in  their  hearts.  The  relations  of  Ireland 
with  England  for  several  centuries  have  been  those  of  the 
captive  and  his  gaoler,  the  victim  and  his  executioner. 

Wales  was  joined  to  England  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  in  the  sixteenth  century  her  representatives  first 
took  their  seats  in  Parliament.  The  expression  "England  and 
Wales"  conveys  the  idea  that  the  two  countries  are  one  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  legislator  and  the  statesman.  Scotland 
was  definitely  annexed  in  1603  by  a  dynastic  union,  and  in 
1707  the  two  Parliaments  were  merged  into  one.  Finally,  the 
union  with  Ireland  dates  back  just  a  century.  Is  it  possible  to 
imagine  France  occupying  the  position  towards  one  of  her 
dependencies  which  England  has  adopted  towards  these  three 
Celtic  countries  :  certainly  she  would  not  have  taken  a  century 
to  m.erge  their  individuality  in  her  own  and  efl^ace  the 
differences  which  might  hinder  the  establishment  of  a  general 
system  of  government.  England  in  this  connection  has  shown 
herself  the  solitary  and  unsociable  nation  we  have  described  j 
she  has  disdained  to  mingle  with  her  Celtic  subjects,  or  to 
make  them  her  equals  ;  she  has  isolated  herself  in  her  pride. 

How  many  diflferences,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  still  exist  between 
one  people  and  the  other !  In  the  first  place  the  three 
countries  of  which  I  have  spoken  profess  a  different  religion  to 


94  THE   ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

that  of  their  conquerors  :  Ireland  is  Catholic,  Wales  to  a  great 
extent  Methodist,  and  Scotland  Presbyterian.  The  latter  even 
regards  the  Presbyterian  as  her  Established  Church.  This 
democratic  form  of  belief,  which  admits  no  human  authority 
and  will  not  tolerate  any  civil  power  above  the  Church  of 
Jesus  Christ,  has  received  all  the  privileges  of  the  Established 
Church  on  the  other  side  of  the  Tweed  ;  and  yet  if  a  member 
of  this  Church  crosses  the  frontier  he  finds  himself  looked 
down  upon  and  classed  among  the  Dissenters  whom  the  State 
refuses  to  recognise.  These  different  denominations  must  not 
be  considered  merely  as  the  sign  of  each  people's  preference  for 
a  certain  mode  of  conceiving  religion  and  its  relations  with  the 
State.  There  is  something  more  in  it  than  that.  The  Irish, 
the  Scotch,  and  the  Welsh  have  each  clung  to  their  creed, 
partly  from  a  spirit  of  contradiction  ;  professing  it  with  the 
more  fervour  because  it  is  not  that  of  the  English  ;  in  it  they 
have  found  a  sure  means  of  separating  themselves  from  a 
detested  race,  even  though  it  be  in  prayer,  which  should  make 
all  men  equal  and  brothers  before  God. 

The  second  point  that  should  be  noted  is  the  manner  in 
which  Parliament  legislates  for  the  different  parts  of  the  United 
Kingdom.  There  is  not  merely  one  universal  code  of  laws. 
Besides  those  laws  which  embrace  the  whole  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  there  are  some  which  only  apply  to  Great  Britain, 
others  to  England,  and  others  again  to  Scotland  ;  finally,  there 
are  some  which  only  concern  Ireland.  Of  these  different 
sections  of  the  legislative  work,  the  four  last  are  not  the  least 
numerous  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  rule  is,  that  the  majority  of 
statutes  are  not  applicable  to  the  whole  of  the  United  Kingdom. 
The  consequence  is  that,  with  the  exception  of  Wales,  which 
has  been  almost  invariably  identified  with  England  for  nearly 
four  centuries,  the  countries  which  go  to  make  up  the  United 
Kingdom  can,  on  a  great  number  of  points,  exhibit  statutes 
which  simply  concern  themselves.  No  circumspection  has 
been  employed  in  dealing  with  Ireland  ;  as  a  conquered  country 


THE  INDIGENOUS   RACES  95 

she  has  to  submit  to  the  hiw  of  the  conqueror.  The  civil  and 
penal  laws  of  England  have  been  imposed  upon  her  ;  and  yet 
how  far  she  is  from  being  a  mere  fraction,  indistinguishable 
from  other  fractions  in  the  group  of  the  United  Kingdom. 
The  application  of  the  English  criminal  laws,  particularly  the 
Habeas  Corpus  Act,  has  so  often  been  suspended  that  arbitrary 
arrests  seem  quite  in  the  natural  order  of  things  and  in 
accordance  with  the  law  ;  further,  the  department  of  the  public 
ministry  has  been  placed  on  a  permanent  footing.  The  law 
of  property  is  complicated  with  ideas  handed  down  from  the 
time  of  the  clans,  ideas  to  which  the  English  find  no  parallel 
in  their  own  past.  The  thoroughly  Irish  system  prevailing  in 
Ulster  has  been  extended  to  the  whole  country  ;  local  ad- 
ministration has  been  constructed  on  a  different  plan  to  that  in 
vogue  on  the  other  side  of  the  St.  George's  Channel,  and  the 
special  titles  of  the  officials,  as  well  as  the  compass  of  their 
prerogatives,  attest  the  fiict  that  here  we  enter  another 
world.  Scotland  for  a  long  time,  both  in  her  customs  and  her 
laws,  differed  essentially  from  England.  During  the  last  fifty 
years  she  has  made  great  strides  towards  a  more  complete 
union,  but  many  differences  still  separate  the  two  countries. 
For  instance,  the  Scotch  have  never  recognised  the  distinction 
between  law  and  equity  ;  even  now  they  have  no  Habeas 
Corpus  Act.  I  The  public  ministry  is  strongly  represented  at 
headquarters  by  the  Lord  Advocate  and  his  colleagues,  and  in 
the  provincial  towns  by  the  procurators  fiscal.  Examination  is 
conducted  in  private.  In  former  days  Scotland  had  a  special 
civil  law,  which,  in  process  of  time,  has  lost  its  most  striking 
peculiarities.  There  were  perpetual  amendments  to  it,  the 
number  of  which  was  not  limited  until  1848,  in  imitation  of 
the  English  amendments.  Scotch  marriages  used  to  be  con- 
cluded without  forms  or  the  intervention  of  guardians,  but  the 
law  intervened  in  1878  to  encourage  "regular  marriages." 
The  laws  regulating  commerce  are  by  no  means  identical  in 
the  three  countries.     The  system  of  parliamentary  elections  did 

'  Translator's  Note. — Scotland  has  the  equivalent  of  Habeas  Corpus 
in  an  Act  19  &  20  Vict.  cap.  56,  sec.  17. 


96  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

not  become  universal  until  1868,  or  rather  1884.  Municipal 
organisation,  founded  on  that  of  England,  was  adopted  by 
Scotland  in  1885,  and  by  Ireland  in  1899.  The  separation 
between  Scotland  and  England  is  made  particularly  evident 
by  the  fact  that  the  Scotch  law  has  no  judiciary  value  in  the 
English  courts  of  justice,  where  it  is  regarded  merely  as  a 
point  the  authority  of  which  is  entirely  dependent  on 
evidence.! 

The  third  point  to  be  noted  is  the  almost  ineradicable  differ- 
ence in  manners  and  customs.  Neither  the  Scotch,  the  Irish, 
nor  the  Welsh  have  borrowed  anything  from  the  English. 
Wales,  although  in  many  respects  now  identified  with 
England,  has  yet  always  been  a  kind  of  enigma  to  her  neigh- 
bour, which  the  latter  does  not  condescend  to  decipher.  The 
English,  as  Mr.  Osborne  Morgan  said,  are  better  acquainted 
with  the  Soudan  than  with  W^les  ;  and  by  the  English  he  did 
not  mean  those  who  occasionally  spent  their  vacations  in  the 
principality,  but  those  who  had  lived  there  for  long  years;  they 
regard  the  Welsh,  he  said,  as  a  peculiar  species  of  Englishmen 
living  in  a  town  the  name  of  which  it  is  impossible  to 
pronounce,  and  preferring  a  musical  festival  to  a  horse- 
race. 

It  is  sufficient  to  hear  an  English  gentleman  speak  of  his 
Irish  and  English  tenants  in  order  to  perceive  that  he  considers 
the  first  as  foreigners,  in  connection  with  whom  all  the  laws, 
human  and  divine,  which  he  is  accustomed  to  obey  in  dealing 
with  the  latter,  lose  their  authority  and  cease  to  restrain  him. 
The  Irish,  on  the  other  hand,  have  always  considered  the 
annexation  of  their  country  by  England  as  a  scandalous  act, 
which  could  only  have  been  consummated  by  the  most  bare- 
faced corruption  :  they  have  never  ceased  to  protest  against  it. 
The  Scotch  were,  at  first,  decidedly  hostile  to  the  treaty  of  1 707, 
but  eventually  accepted  it.  The  memory  of  it  was  hateful  a 
hundred  years  later  to  her  more  enlightened  citizens — Smollct, 
'  Stephen's  Coitimctitarics,  vol.  i.  Iiilnxl.,  sect.  iv.  p.  90. 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  97 

for  example,  and  Walter  Scott.  At  the  epoch  when  the  treaty 
was  concluded,  Scotland  was  still  very  poor  while  England  was 
excessively  rich.  The  Scotch  peer  could  not  come  to  London 
to  take  part  in  the  Parliamentary  debates  without  the  assistance 
of  the  Oueen.  It  is  said  that  at  this  time  verv  few  from  the 
Highlands  and  even  from  the  Lowlands  had  crossed  the  Tweed 
and  returned  from  England  with  a  gayer  mien.  Then  again, 
Scotland,  who,  since  the  time  of  John  Knox,  had  been  plunged 
in  a  sombre  theological  dream,  and  preoccupied,  even  in  her 
lowest  classes,  with  subtle  interpretations  of  the  sacred  Book, 
was  incapable  of  comprehending  the  ideas,  sentiments  and 
customs  of  a  nation  more  at  one  with  the  world,  more  sensible 
of  material  interests,  less  infatuated  with  religion  and,  in  short, 
more  prone  to  scepticism.  Two  centuries  did  not  efface  these 
differences  nor  soften  the  dislike  of  one  nation  for  the  other. 
Some  years  ago  Mr.  Lowe  testified  to  the  fact  that  when  the 
Scotch  come  to  London  they  lodge  in  Scotch  hotels  and 
employ  Scotch  tradesmen.  Li  fact,  an  absence  of  all 
sympathy  with  the  English  and  their  customs  is  apparent  in 
every  word  and  deed  of  Scotch,  Irish,  and  Welsh. 

But  the  enmity  of  Ireland,  Scotland,  and  Wales  towards  their 
conquerors  is  particularly  marked  in  questions  of  government, 
and  here  Ireland  appears  more  and  more  as  a  foreign  nation. 
Against  five  millions  of  Irish  in  the  island  adjacent  to  England, 
there  are  ten  millions  in  America,  still  wholly  subject  to  the 
customs,  passions,  and  prejudices  peculiar  to  their  native  land, 
in  the  United  States  the  great  majority  of  the  Irish  find  ease 
or  riches,  and  a  boundless  liberty  which  can  be  enjoyed  without 
let  or  hindrance.  Certain  that  England  cannot  touch  them, 
they  encourage  their  European  brothers  in  criminal  and  revolu- 
tionary enterprises,  helping  them  largely  from  their  own 
resources.  Ireland  once  succeeded,  thanks  to  certain  favourable 
circumstances,  in  gaining  over  the  first  statesman  in  England 
to  her  side  and  with  him  nearly  the  whole  Whig  party  ;  she 
will   never  forget   that    Home   Rule  has    figured  on  the  pro- 

H 


98  THE  ENGLISH   PEOPLE 

gramme  of  the  Liberal  party,  that  the  majority  voted  for  it, 
and  that  no  one  can  now  treat  it  as  a  chimera  without  accusing 
Mr.  Gladstone  of  frivolity  or  inconsequence.  Further,  nearly 
all  the  representatives  of  Scotland  and  Wales  declared  with  the 
Irish  in  favour  of  this  measure,  and  it  is  evident  that  every  part 
of  the  United  Kingdom,  with  the  exception  of  England,  has  a 
decided  inclination  towards  the  federative  system,  and  would  be 
disposed  to  welcome  any  organisation  by  which  the  weakening 
of  the  central  power  would  lead  to  a  greater  independence  and 
almost  autonomy  on  the  part  of  the  local  power  in  each  of  the 
three  countries.  In  fact  Scotland  is  already  in  possession  of 
this  autonomy.  Her  representatives  in  the  House  of  Commons 
form  a  group  who  are  allowed  to  settle  the  questions  which 
interest  their  nation  almost  as  they  will.  It  is  a  little  Parlia- 
ment in  the  big  one,  and  a  sort  of  Home  Rule  by  tacit  consent. 
Is  it  not  singular  that  in  two  centuries  the  community  of 
interests  has  made  so  little  progress,  and  that  even  now  Scot- 
land, under  the  veil  of  a  Parliamentary  fiction,  is  not  allowed 
to  settle  finally  the  questions  which  are  her  own  concern? 

It  has  been  said  more  that  once  that  Great  Britain  is  only  a 
geographical  expression  ;  this  is  true  of  the  United  Kingdom 
as  a  whole  :  it  does  not  constitute  a  political  unity,  and  still  less 
a  moral  unity.  Each  of  its  four  parts  feels  its  own  individuality, 
and  is  conscious  of  a  distinct  life.  It  forms  a  whole  more  than 
federative  and  less  than  federal. 

England,  while  pre-eminently  unsociable  abroad,  is  at  home 
most  liberal,  hospitable  and  easy  with  strangers.  The  Scotch, 
Welsh,  and  Irish,  who  energetically  oppose  the  adoption  of  any 
British  customs  in  their  own  countries,  are  by  no  means  insen- 
sible to  the  conveniences  of  residence  which  England  offers 
them,  and  the  number  of  those  who  live  there  varies  between 
750,000  and  850,000,  a  figure  which  corresponds  to  a  tenth  of 
the  population  of  the  two  countries.  In  England  they  enjoy 
absolute  liberty.  The  English  character,  therefore,  is,  to  a 
certain  extent,  complicated.     Once  there  was  only  one  national 


THE  INDIGENOUS  RACES  99 

mind  in  England,  because  there  was  only  one  nation.  Now 
there  arc,  psychologically  and  morally,  three  nations  in  one. 
By  the  union  of  races  Scotland  and  Ireland  have  more  or  less 
enriched  the  common  fund  with  their  particular  endowments, 
and,  in  the  same  way,  their  failings  have  been  more  or  less 
propagated  in  the  mass  of  the  people.  The  Irish  are  like  the 
Italians  of  the  United  Kingdom,  and  the  Scotch  like  the 
Germans.  The  influence  of  the  first  has  been  felt  more 
especially  in  their  gift  of  writing  for,  and  speaking  to,  the 
masses.  To  mention  only  the  most  striking  example  of  this 
influence  we  may  say,  that  it  was  their  natural  talent  in  the 
preparation  of  pamphlets  which,  utilised  in  every  cause,  con- 
tributed more  than  all  else  to  the  development  of  the  empire  of 
that  fourth  power — the  Press.  It  was  chiefly  their  oratorical 
intemperance  and  disdain  of  rules  which  completely  altered 
Parliamentary  manners  and  decorum,  rendered  the  system  of 
closure  indispensable,  and  hastened  the  day  when  the  House  of 
Commons  ceased  to  be  a  salon  of  correct  and  self-confident 
gentlemen  and  became  a  forum  in  which  the  police  were 
required.  The  Scotch  inoculated  England  with  learned  poli- 
tical economy  and  philosophy.  They  supplied  her  with  the 
exalted  experimentalism  which  has  become  superposed  upon 
her  flat  empiricism. 

5. — Insularity.      The  Provincial  in  Europe. 

Here  is  a  river,  a  mountain,  and  a  plateau  which  separate  two 
nations.  On  cither  side  of  this  boundary  extends  a  zone  the 
inhabitants  of  which,  in  consequence  of  uninterrupted  inter- 
course, resemble  their  compatriots  in  a  far  smaller  degree  than 
their  immediate  neighbours.  The  traveller,  on  returning  to 
his  own  country,  first  encounters  this  degradation  of  the  exotic 
type  which  is  imperceptibly  reproduced  in  a  gradation  towards 
the  national  type.  The  opposing  traits  of  race  and  nationality 
are  therefore  less  decided  here  than  elsewhere  ;    a   foreigner  is 


lOO  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

not  necessarily  a  dissimilar  being,  rendered  hateful  by  the  effect 
of  his  dissimilarity  ;  he  is  by  no  means  the  hostis  in  the 
primitive  sense  of  the  word  in  whom  each  man  sees  an  enemy. 
On  the  contrary,  in  an  arm  of  the  sea  like  the  Channel  the 
imperceptible  line  traced  between  the  two  countries  first  of  all 
separates  two  zones  of  uninhabited  stormy  wave.  This  pontus 
dissodabilis  forms  a  more  effective  barrier  between  the  two 
nations  than  the  highest  chain  of  mountains.  The  man  who 
has  to  cross  the  sea  to  return  to  his  native  land  and  watches 
the  shore  fading  behind  him  in  the  distance,  feels  himself  an 
absolute  stranger  to  everything  outside  the  girdle  of  moving 
water.  In  any  part  of  his  island,  he  feels  far  more  at  home  and 
different  to  other  men,  than  a  Frenchman  feels  on  any  part  of 
the  strip  of  territory  which  borders  his  frontier.  England  is 
not  only  an  island,  but  a  continent.  No  other  country  has  so 
loudly  protested  that  she  is  sufficient  for  herself,  nor  regarded 
with  greater  suspicion  the  ideas  and  manners  of  Europe.  She 
has  sometimes  imitated  other  countries,  but  the  imitation  has 
generally  been  as  fleeting  as  a  fantasy  and  superficial  as  a 
fashion  ;  the  multitude  has  not  been  affected  by  it,  remaining 
faithful  to  its  original  character.  In  short,  for  a  long  period 
opportunities  of  contact  between  foreigners  and  the  masses 
were  rare  in  England  ;  rare  too  were  the  forms  of  activity  by 
which  the  stimulated  intelligence  escapes  to  a  certain  extent 
from  itself.  The  first  training  of  the  English  nation  took  place 
in  a  comparatively  circumscribed  area  ;  at  first  they  breathed  a 
heavy  and  changeless  atmosphere.  There  is  no  other  nation 
in  whose  case  the  progress  of  the  great  majority  has  been  so  long 
retarded,  who  is  younger  in  civilisation,  or  in  whom  the  strong, 
coarse  simplicity  of  the  primitive  type  has  been  less  untouched. 
Neither  is  there  any  people  in  whom  the  individual  bias  of  the 
national  mind  and  character  has  had  more  opportunity  of 
becoming  individualised  and  solidified  ;  and  the  result  of  all 
this  is,  that  the  English  genius  has  assumed  an  exceptional 
individuality   and    tenacity.      Even   in    the  present   day   in   the 


THE   lAWIGENOUS   RACES  loi 

uijsheltcred,  hurried  life  of  the  contemporary  Englishman,  the 
extremely  resistant  individuality  of  his  character  retains  the 
traces  of  this  unique  training.  Who  has  not  encountered  on 
the  Continent  the  tourist  whose  clothes  exhale  a  peculiar 
odour  brought  from  London  ?  In  the  same  way  be  brings 
with  him  a  spiritual  atmosphere  not  easily  penetrated,  which 
keeps  ideas,  like  men,  at  a  distance,  and  behind  which  the  moral 
and  intellectual  life  handed  down  to  him  by  his  father  flows 
changelessly  on.  Setting  aside  all  differences,  he  might  be 
compared  to  the  French  native  of  a  region  remote  from  the 
metropolis  who,  before  the  invention  of  railways,  might  have 
visited  the  great  city.  The  "  provincial  in  Paris  "  might  have 
had  that  curious,  attentive  and  excited  air  of  a  man  undergoing 
a  profound  experience  ;  in  reality,  it  has  no  effect  upon  him,  he 
returns  to  his  native  land  with  the  turn  of  mind,  which  had 
been  slowly  formed  and  transmitted  down  the  ages,  absolutely 
intact.  The  Englishman  is  always  more  or  less  the  "  provincial 
in  Europe."  His  spirit  is  like  a  liquor  which,  having  for  a  long 
time  been  preserved  from  shaking,  becomes  concentrated  and 
thickened,  until  it  has  no  longer  sufficient  fluidity  to  mingle 
with  others. 

This  peculiar  trend  and  want  of  affinity  in  the  English 
character  plays  an  important  part  in  the  progress  and  effects 
of  British  colonisation.  The  English  have  never  formed  a 
mongrel  race  with  the  autochthonic  population  of  any  country 
they  have  subjugated.  They  resemble  a  metal,  the  point  of 
fusion  of  which  is  too  high  :  it  cannot  be  alloyed.  They  have 
never  placed  a  conquered  people  on  an  equality  with  them- 
selves, nor  have  they  any  conception  of  the  art  of  conciliating 
them.  They  only  know  how  to  oppress  them,  make  use  of 
them,  crush  or  destroy  them.  The  French  were  loved  by  the 
Indians  of  North  America,  and  found  in  them  faithful  allies. 
The  Spanish,  by  intermixing  with  the  natives  of  Mexico,  Peru 
and  Central  America,  formed  a  race  which  by  degrees  became 
initiated  in  the  highest  European  culture.     The  Redskins,  on 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  O?  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


I02  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  contrary,  who  lived  on  the  borders  of  the  United  States, 
were  cantoned,  demoralised,  and  decimated,  and  finally  dis- 
appeared. Ezra-Seaman  drew  attention  to  the  fact  that  while 
in  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  only  some  hundred  thousand 
Indians  were  partly  licked  into  shape  and  civilised  by  the  Eng- 
lish, twelve  millions  of  aborigines  were  in  the  same  time  raised 
by  Catholic  Spain  to  a  far  higher  degree  of  civilisation. 
The  same  inability  to  comprehend  the  inferior  race,  to  stoop 
towards  them  so  as  to  raise  them  up  and  place  them  on  a  level 
with  themselves,  is  strikingly  apparent  in  all  the  lamentable 
history  of  Ireland,  in  that  of  India  and  in  the  present  adminis- 
tration of  Egypt.  The  English  have  secured  material  benefits 
to  these  populations :  order,  security  and  riches.  Their 
authority  in  Hindustan,  for  example,  is  exercised  in  all  good 
faith,  honestly  and  justly  ;  but  though  a  century  has  gone  by 
they  still  hold  among  the  mass  of  the  natives  the  position  of  an 
isolated  company,  in  that  they  have  no  adherents.  Foreigners 
are  they  still,  and  a  cry  of  deliverance  would  salute  their 
departure,  even  if  they  took  with  them  well-being  and  peace. 
The  dominion  of  the  English  overwhelms  the  inferior  race ;  it 
is  oppressive,  even  deadly,  when  they  cannot  appeal,  as  they 
would  in  England,  to  the  initiative  and  energy  of  the  indi- 
vidual. They  do  not  possess  the  secret  of  making  their 
protectorship  acceptable,  nor  can  they  adapt  themselves  to 
the  insignificant  and  weak.  They  do  not  represent  themselves 
in  their  true  light,  nor  do  they  care  to  understand  any  but 
their  peers  and  their  equals. 


PART   III 

THE  ENGLISHMAN:  MORAL  AND  SOCIAL 


CHAPTER   I 

THE    englishman:    isolated    and    SUBJEC'ITVE 

I. — LovCy  Sy?npcithy^   Pride  and  Sincerity. 

Let  us  turn  our  attention  from  natural  environment  and  race 
to  individual  man.  To  begin  with,  we  perceive  a  certain 
hiatus  in  the  English  character  in  place  of  an  essential  quality. 
The  Englishman  is  less  social  than  men  of  any  other 
nationality  ;  I  mean,  he  is  less  conscious  of  the  ties  that  bind 
humanity  together,  his  moral  formation  owes  little  to  his 
relations  with  other  men,  he  scarcely  troubles  himself  about 
what  they  think,  and  if  he  ever  considers  the  matter  at  all,  it 
makes  no  difference  in  his  sentiments  and  actions.  In  short, 
the  Englishman  is  to  a  large  extent  a  recluse  ;  he  is  more  aloof 
from  the  world  in  which  he  lives,  and  the  neighbours  whom 
he  elbows,  than  men  of  any  other  nationality.  What  he 
experiences  in  himself  is  seldom  a  representation  of  what  he 
sees  with  his  outward  eyes.  This  is  owing  no  doubt  to  the 
essential  peculiarity  that  his  imagination  is  formed  mostly 
from  within,  by  an  inward  operation  which  gains  from  inter- 
mittent sensations  simply  the  points  of  departure  and  some 
rapidly  transformed  rudiments.  His  character  is  like  a  fruit 
which  has  grown  up  under  the  bark  or  in  a  sort  of  shell  :  it 
does  not  reproduce,  like  the  skin  of  the  peach,  every  impression 
that  variety  of  situation  and  the  course  of  the  sun  imprints  on 
its  alternately  pale  and  reddened  exterior.  In  short,  the 
Englishman  is  far  more  of  an  individual  than  the   Frenchman 


io6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

or  the  Italian,  for  example  ;  and  it  is  in  this  sense  that  we 
must  understand  the  fundamental  individualism  which  is 
rightly  said  to  be  one  of  the  attributes  of  British  genius. 

The  manner  in  which  the  English  regard  sexual  relations  is 
significant.  The  needs  and  appetites  experienced  by  the 
whole  of  humanity  are  the  basis  of  these  relations.  But  with 
the  man  of  the  South,  these  needs  are  refined,  these  appetites 
become  more  delicate,  in  consequence  of  the  numerous  and 
vivid  impressions  which  are  blended  with  his  whole  life,  and 
become  by  degrees,  not  only  the  condition,  but  a  part  of  all 
his  pleasures.  This  blending  of  voluptuousness  with  natural 
desires  is  carried  to  such  an  extent  that  the  French,  for 
instance,  delay,  under  the  pretext  of  rendering  it  more 
exquisite,  the  satisfaction  of  the  senses,  deferring  it  so  long 
that  it  becomes  simply  the  limit,  situated  in  infinity,  of  a  long 
voyage  to  the  country  of  the  affections :  it  was  this  which 
produced  chivalry  in  the  midst  of  the  coarse  Middle  Ages  ;  it  is 
this  which  produced  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  in  a  more 
cultured  and  polite  society.  The  Englishman  knows  nothing 
of  such  things.  Chivalry  appeared  for  a  moment  in  England, 
but  proved  miserably  abortive.  CUlie  and  the  Grand  CyrnSy 
which  were  the  delight  of  our  ancestors,  have  never  been 
imitated,  and  apparently  are  not  read  now  in  good  society. 
Voluptuousness  in  England  is  not  intermingled  with  the 
fine  impressions,  light  diversions,  and  pleasures  of  conversation 
which  in  France  make  part  of  it.  The  Englishman  makes 
straight  for  the  object  of  his  desires.  He  goes  for  it  as  if  there 
were  nothing  in  the  world  but  himself  and  the  object  ;  he 
enjoys  it  without  making  any  difficulties. 

Let  us  consider  the  period  when  manners  were  most  corrupt 
in  England,  viz.,  from  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  to  that  of 
Oucen  Anne.  Under  Charles  II.  the  corruption,  which  in 
the  PVench  Court  was  cloaked  by  an  appearance  of  style  and  a 
certain  air  of  dignity,  appeared  simply  as  abandoned  libertinism 
on   the  other  side  of  the   Strait.      The  Memoirs  of  Gratnmont 


rim  ENGLISHMAN  107 

give  us  a  picture  of  society  tainted  with  the  hypocrisy  wliich  is 
the  last  homage  vice  renders  to  virtue.  These  memoirs, 
written  in  French,  at  least  introduce  a  h'ttle  wit  into  the 
narration  of  events  of  a  doubtful  character.  Under  Oueen 
Anne,  words  were  as  coarse  as  deeds.  The  scenes  in  novels 
were  often  laid  in  disorderly  houses  ;  prostitutes  were  the  chief 
characters,  filling  the  air  with  their  slang,  and  displaying  their 
pantomime  unabashed.  Under  the  veneer  of  cant,  things  are 
very  much  the  same  to-day.  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  recently 
revealed  the  existence  of  some  obscure  haunts  where  the  upper 
classes  secretly  indulge  in  brutality  and  depravity.  English 
sensuality  is  merely  cloaked  by  a  dull  Pharisaism  ;  in  itself  it 
has  none  of  those  refinements  which  would  prevent  it  from 
descending  to  bestiality. 

The  same  defect  in  man  in  his  relations  with  his  fellows  is 
to  be  found  in  the  inhumanity  of  which  in  all  ages  the  English 
have  given  examples  that  can  never  be  forgotten.  It  bears  no 
sort  of  resemblance  to  the  artistic  cruelty  of  the  Italian  and  the 
Spaniard.  Their  cruelty  is  that  of  men  who  are  acutely  con- 
scious of  the  sufferings  of  others,  but  the  impression,  as  it 
reaches  them  through  their  nerves,  entirely  alters  its  character, 
and  instead  of  the  torments  which  should  arouse  sympathy 
they  experience  a  feeling  of  joy.  The  impression  that  the 
Englishman  receives  of  the  suffering  of  others  is  quite  the 
reverse  ;  to  him  it  is  simply  a  spectacle,  he  does  not  feel  it 
reproduced  in  his  own  body,  and  has  no  occasion  to  ask  him- 
self whether  it  would  be  a  torture  or  a  pleasure  ;  his  nerves 
receive  no  thrill.  Lieutenant  Jameson,  coolly  witnessing  the 
sacrifice  of  a  little  native  girl,  and  treating  the  exhibition  of 
anthropophagy  as  a  mere  object  of  curiosity,  a  noteworthy 
incident  in  an  interesting  journey,  is  a  good  example  of  this 
condition  of  the  senses  and  heart.  English  masters  were  guilty 
only  of  the  same  incapacity  for  emotion  in  the  long  years 
during  which  they  tolerated  the  barbarous  treatment  endured 
by  women  and  children  in  the  mines  and  manufactories.    They 


io8  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

knew  of  and  allowed  it — inquiries  leave  us  no  doubt  under 
this  head.  Their  consciences  did  not  force  them  to  speak,  nor, 
indeed,  warn  them,  for  such  warning  could  only  be  received 
by  those  who  suffered  sympathetically  at  the  sight  or  narration 
of  sorrow  and  misery.  How  many  facts  we  could  adduce  to 
prove  that  the  Englishman  is  more  or  less  isolated  from  the 
world  through  which  he  travels,  cut  oiF  by  the  defectiveness  of 
his  senses  from  the  greater  number  of  the  impressions  which 
come  to  us  from  external  things,  exempt  from  the  weaknesses 
to  which  those  impressions  render  us  liable,  and  able  and  free 
to  form  a  definite  opinion  by  more  abstract  reasoning,  in 
which  flesh  and  blood  have  no  part !  For  though  he  may 
have  none  of  the  sensibility  which  is  afFected  by  particular 
cases,  he  possesses  the  sentimentality  which  is  aroused  by 
general  questions,  and,  his  passion  for  action  urging  him  on, 
he  becomes  capable  of  great  acts  of  philanthropy,  such  as  the 
suppression  of  the  slave  trade  and  the  abolition  of  slavery, 
which  it  is  vain  to  try  to  represent  as  purely  utilitarian 
actions.  From  such  instances  as  these  we  obtain  a  fair  idea 
of  the  Englishman's  defective  sociability  ;  by  temperament  he 
is  solitary,  and  through  indifference,  independent. 

In  everyday  life  inhumanity  becomes  coarseness  and 
brutality.  Fortescue  relates  how  in  his  time  the  Englishman 
did  not  hesitate  to  take  by  force  the  property  of  others  which 
he  coveted  ;  he  held  that  to  do  so  was  to  act  as  becomes  a 
man  :  in  his  eyes  it  was  simply  a  very  laudable  trait.  Is  it  not 
remarkable  that  he  put  himself  quite  naturally  into  the  place 
of  the  robber,  not  in  that  of  the  robbed  ?  The  Englishman 
always  conceives  himself  as  a  man  of  action  ;  in  every  age  he 
has  been  the  man  represented  by  Hobbes.  We  can  find 
proofs  of  this  in  every  century.  I  will  merely  recall  how  some 
years  ago  the  Dally  News  declared  that  the  Englishman  of  the 
lower  classes  did  not  know  how  to  amuse  himself  except  in 
coarse  and  brutal  fashion.  What  forces,  moral  or  social,  can 
control  such  savage  energies  ?     The  written  law  is  merely  a 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  109 

method  of  general  restraint,  i.c.^  commonplace  restraint  ;  the 
policy  of  a  government  is  merely  a  method  of  human  restraint, 
usually  arbitrary  ;  both  arc  external  methods,  and  the  abrupt 
outbreak  of  energies,  that  it  is  desired  to  restrain,  will  very 
rapidly  carry  away  the  inadequate  barrier  which  keeps  them 
within  bounds.  The  only  bonds  sufficiently  resistant  to  restrain 
such  energies  are  those  which  each  man  laboriously  fashions 
out  of  his  own  moral  substance  and  imposes  upon  himself.  If 
a  society  composed  of  such  elements  does  not  dissolve,  it  is 
because  it  has  drawn  a  principle  of  order  and  pacification  from 
this  inner  source.  On  one  side  we  see  political  liberty  ;  on  the 
other  the  voluntary  servitude  of  faith — self-government  out- 
wardly, self-control  inwardly.  The  race  is  religious,  for  the 
simple  reason  that,  being  by  nature  violent  and  brutal,  it 
has  special  need  of  discipline.  The  force  of  their  tempera- 
ment and  the  sort  of  physical  and  moral  pride  which  causes 
them  to  chafe  under  the  restraint  of  human  authority,  induces 
them  to  include  a  similar  discipline  in  their  conception  of  the 
Divine  world,  and  there,  and  there  only,  to  suffer  it  gladly. 

It  may  cause  surprise  that  a  race  which  possesses  the  pride 
of  life  in  such  a  degree  should  seek  refuge  in  a  religion  of 
humility,  the  first  step  in  which  casts  the  believer,  a  suppliant, 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  fundamental  principle  of  Christianity, 
and  especially  of  Protestant  Christianity,  is  that  all  force  comes 
from  grace  to  impotent  human  liberty  ;  but  we  must  not 
believe  that  a  Protestant,  after  his  voluntary  abasement,  finds 
no  means  of  raising  himself  up  and  standing  erect  ;  he  does 
not  know  that  craving  weakness  which  continually  applies  to 
the  Creator,  again  becoming  conscious  of  its  infirmity  directly 
the  memory  of  the  transient  help  has  faded  away.  The 
weakness  of  the  Englishman  is  acknowledged  once  and  for  all, 
then  he  forms  an  alliance  with  the  Almighty,  and  ever  after 
is  filled  with  His  strength.  Grace  is  in  his  heart  and  never 
leaves  it  ;  to  this  everything  he  does  bears  witness. 

Is  a  final  proof  required  of  the  incompleteness  of  the  English- 


no  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

man  considered  socially,  signifying  that  there  is  a  lack  of  impres- 
sions from  the  outside  world,  which,  in  our  own  opinion,  would 
complete  him  ?  I  will  confine  myself  to  a  single  example. 
A  young  man  and  girl  are  walking  together  in  a  garden. 
Suddenly  the  young  girl  becomes  conscious  that  her  companion 
is  going  to  make  her  a  proposal  of  marriage  which  she  might 
accept.  What  would  be  the  sentiments  and  attitude  of  a 
Frenchwoman  surprised  by  such  an  unexpected  declaration  ? 
We  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  thoughts  which  would  agitate 
htr  would  result  from  her  method  of  imagining  the  impressions 
and  judgment  of  a  certain  number  of  young  men  and  women 
present  at  the  interview  :  she  sees  them  quietly  exchange  an 
opinion  which  she  divines,  disapproving  the  manner  or  admir- 
ing the  propriety  of  the  responses  which  her  scanty  disconcerted 
experience  improvises  ;  the  next  instant  she  imagines  she  has 
taken  refuge  with  her  parents  and  listens,  blushing  and  with 
lowered  eyes,  to  the  prudent  words  uttered  by  the  maternal 
voice.  Even  her  timidity  is  nothing  but  the  result  of  the 
cruel  uncertainty  she  feels,  while  vainly  endeavouring  to  find 
a  method  of  response  which  shall  conform  to  the  conventions 
and  not  excite  the  contemptuous  smiles  of  the  imaginary 
public  she  supposes  present  at  the  interview.  In  short,  the 
sentiments  of  the  French  girl  are  derived  entirely  from  her 
outward  circumstances.  With  the  ideal  English  girl  matters 
are  reversed.  Margaret  Hall,  at  the  first  words  of  her 
interlocutor,  experiences,  it  is  true,  a  desire  to  escape  from 
him,  and  to  feel  herself  under  the  protection  of  her  father 
or  her  mother  ;  but  this  is  momentary  :  almost  immediately 
her  pride  reasserts  itself ;  she  is  conscious  of  ability  to  resolve 
the  present  difficulty  herself.  Yes,  she  knows  what  to  reply, 
her  answer  will  be  a  fitting  one,  and  a  sentiment  of  modern 
pride,  "  the  consciousness  of  her  high  dignity  as  a  young 
girl,"  rises  in  her  heart,  and  brimming  o\c\  inspires  the 
words  which  the  trembling  lips  pronounce.  No  support  nor 
counsel    are  at    hand,    because    she     docs    not    need    them. 


THE   ENGLISHMAN  in 

Margaret  rejects  her  lover  in  words  which  seem  to  us  almost 
cruel,  and  neither  her  mother  nor  her  father  will  ever  divine 
the  struggle  from  which  she  has  just  emerged.  This  is 
the  little  inner  drama  on  which  Mrs.  Gaslcell  counted  to 
excite  the  interest  of  the  English  public.  It  has  no 
connection  with  the  outer  world  ;  the  whole  thing  takes 
place  in  the  inner  consciousness.  Margaret  does  not  even 
dream  of  alluding  to  it  afterwards  in  conversation  with  a 
friend.  The  ordeal  is  enveloped  in  perpetual  silence.  This 
is  a  good  example  of  the  victory  of  the  individual  over  the 
conventional  being,  of  the  spontaneity  of  a  proud  heart  over 
artificial  forms.  The  whole  conduct  of  Margaret  is  profoundly 
individual,  because  it  is  profoundly  subjective ;  there  is  no 
suspicion,  however  small,  of  social  obligations.  The  solitary 
being,  which  every  Englishman  is  in  his  heart,  is  here 
presented  with  force  and  distinctness. 

Thus  we  begin  to  form  a  picture  in  our  minds  of  this 
individual  :  on  the  one  hand,  sensual,  brutal,  inhuman ;  on 
the  other,  capable  of  concentrating  his  forces  and  constrain- 
ing his  pride  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  admirable  examples 
of  nobility.  To  complete  this  first  picture  I  need  only 
bring  forward  his  sincerity.  With  us,  the  principal  obstacle 
encountered  by  sincerity  is  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the 
effect  it  will  produce  on  other  men  and  of  the  wounds 
their  vanity  will  receive  from  it.  The  Englishman  is  not 
hindered  by  anything  of  the  kind  :  he  does  not  appreciate 
the  impression  his  words  produce  ;  he  has  only  a  vague 
and  fleeting  feeling  with  regard  to  it,  a  feeling  which  is 
the  less  likely  to  assume  precision  and  permanence  the 
thicker  the  skin  of  his  interlocutors,  and  the  less  vulnerable 
their  sensibility.  This  is  the  first  cause  of  English 
sincerity.  It  is  another  illustration  of  the  relative 
incapacity  of  these  people  to  picture  to  themselves  the 
emotions  of  others  :  an  incapacity  which  causes  the  individual 
to  court  isolation   and   shun   his  fellows,  even   while  dwellini> 


112  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

in  their  midst.  However  that  may  be,  this  race  can  furnish 
the  largest  number  of  examples  of  a  sincerity  which  is 
sometimes  noble  to  sublimity,  sometimes  intimate  to  friend- 
liness, sometimes  brutal  to  rudeness.  The  English  consider 
it  the  evidence  of  a  strong  will,  which  is  unfettered  by  a 
desire  to  please,  and  makes  little  account  of  offending  others, 
provided  it  can  thereby  the  more  directly  attain  its  end. 

In  October,  1885,  an  official  banquet  was  held  at  Crewe. 
His  Worship  the  Mayor,  an  ex-mechanic,  proposed  a  toast  to 
*'  The  Oueen  "  without  further  beatinir  about  the  bush, 
praising  her  as  a  good  mother  and  a  good  wife.  That  was  all. 
Of  the  then  Prince  of  Wales  he  said,  that  he  had  closely 
followed  his  progress,  and  was  happy  to  say  that  there  had 
been  progress  ;  at  a  certain  period  he  had  not  had  a  very  high 
opinion  of  the  Prince  :  believing  that  he  cared  more  for  his 
pleasures,  and  even  what  might  be  termed  his  vices,  than  for 
the  duties  of  his  high  position.  But  he  was  heartily  glad  to 
think  that  in  proportion  as  the  Prince  advanced  in  years  he 
grew  wiser  and  showed  signs  of  improvement.  He  believed 
he  might  now  be  considered  the  worthy  son  of  a  worthy 
father  and  mother,  and  he  felt  confident  he  would  worthily 
occupy  the  throne  to  which  he  was  destined  ;  therefore  he 
proposed  his  health.  The  same  manly  and  fraternal  frankness 
was  apparent  in  the  toast  to  the  Mayor  proposed  by  one  of  the 
aldermen,  who  said  he  would  not  flatter  his  Worship  ;  he 
would  not  know  how  to,  and  it  would  not  please  him.  His 
administration  as  Mayor  was  the  best  evidence  in  his  favour. 
The  fact  that  he  had  twice  been  elected  showed  the  esteem  in 
which  he  was  held  by  his  colleagues.  Naturally  they  had 
their  disagreements.  His  Worship  had  often  been  at  variance 
with  them,  and  sometimes  said  things  which  hurt ;  but  he  had 
always  done  what  he  considered  right  without  any  respect  of 
persons,  and  never  allowed  differences  of  opinion  to  influence 
his  private  relations.  His  Worship  was  a  gentleman  it  took 
time  to  know  ;  he  was  not  an  expansive  sort  of  man,  but 
those  who  did  get  to  know  him  deeply  respected  him. 


THE   ENGLISHMAN  113 

Thus  true  men  speak  to  one  another.  Those  I  have 
mentioned  possessed  civil  courage  in  the  highest  degree,  and 
were  thereby  enabled  to  make  those  they  lived  among  fear, 
esteem  and  respect  them.  They  lacked  a  certain  delicacy,  but 
they  had  the  healthy  rudeness  and  noble  freedom  of  behaviour 
and  language  which  distinguishes  the  citizen.  It  is  said  that 
in  1864,  when  John  Stuart  Mill  was  a  candidate  for  West- 
minster, one  of  the  bystanders  put  a  question  to  him  with  the 
evident  intention  of  embarrassing  him  :  Was  it  true  he  had 
said  that  English  working  men  were  addicted  to  lying  ?  The 
audience  was  chiefly  composed  of  the  working  classes  ;  but 
they  were  no  more  accustomed  to  listen  to  adroit  flatteries 
than  Mill  to  utter  them.  He  did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment  ; 
"Yes,  I  said  it,"  he  replied.  It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine 
the  clamours  and  protestations  with  which  such  a  reply  would 
be  received  by  a  French  audience.  In  London  tumultuous 
applause  drowned  the  voice  of  the  speaker.  Is  it  credible 
that  so  offensive  an  accusation  could  please  English  working 
men,  even  if  they  deemed  it  merited  ?  No,  indubitably  ; 
what  made  them  enthusiastic  was  the  simple  moral  courage 
with  which  Mill  was  beforehand  with  their  displeasure.  The 
subtle  explanations  into  which  a  Frenchman  would  have 
undoubtedly  plunged  would  have  neither  contented  nor 
pleased  them.  Their  robust  candour  required  rougher  fare. 
For  such  a  nation  there  is  less  danger  than  for  others  in  giving 
itself  over  to  democracy  ;  it  may  at  times  be  the  dupe,  but 
never  the  accomplice,  of  a  demagogue.  The  multitude,  like 
other  multitudes,  will  go  astray  ;  it  will  allow  itself  to  be 
hurried  along  ;  but  the  day  must  come  when,  addressed  by 
some  great  citizen,  it  will  admiringly  receive  his  rough  and 
downright  words,  forsaking  for  him  the  beguilers  of  a  day. 

2. — Unsociohility. 

The  almost  impenetrable  reserve  of  the  f^nglish,  and  what 
might   be   called    their  taciturnity,  are   not   without  important 

I 


114  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

consequences.  A  great  thinker  of  the  last  century  contrasted 
the  nations  who  talk  with  those  who  do  not  talk.  The  degree 
of  sociability  of  any  race,  the  more  or  less  imperious  need  they 
have  to  see  their  fellows,  associate  with  them,  exchange  ideas 
with  them,  receive  their  sympathy,  and  give  their  own  in 
return,  partly  determines  their  destinies.  The  Englishman 
feels  no  weariness  in  living  alone,  no  desire  to  tell  his  affairs  to 
others,  nor  to  hear  about  theirs.  Apart  from  what  touches 
him  directly,  he  interests  himself  solely  in  public  matters 
which  affect  him  indirectly  in  his  character  of  citizen. 
"  Every  one  of  these  islanders,"  said  Emerson,  "  is  an  island 
himself.  ...  In  a  company  of  strangers  you  would  think  him 
deaf;  ...  he  does  not  give  you  his  hand.  He  does  not  let 
you  meet  his  eye.  .  .  .  At  the  hotel  he  is  hardly  willing  to 
whisper  it  (his  name)  to  the  clerk  at  the  book  office." 
"  The  Frenchman  cannot  make  friends  in  England," 
Montesquieu  remarks,  adding,  "  How  can  the  English 
love  foreigners  ?  They  do  not  love  one  another.  How 
can  they  give  us  dinners  ?  They  do  not  dine  amongst  them- 
selves. We  must  do  as  they  do,  take  no  heed  of  others, 
neither  love  any  one  nor  count  upon  any  one.  ^  .  .  The 
Englishman  wants  a  good  dinner,  a  woman  and  the  comforts 
of  life  ;  and  as  these  things  limit  his  desires,  and  he  does  not 
care  for  society,  when  he  loses  his  fortune  and  can  no  longer 
obtain  them,  he  either  kills  himself  or  becomes  a  thief.''^  A 
hundred  and  fifty  years  after  Montesquieu,  Mill,  in  much  the 
same  way,  contrasted  French  sociability  and  good  humour 
with  the  distrust  and  egoism  of  his  compatriots.  "Every- 
body acts,"  he  said,  "  as  if  everybody  else  were  an  enemy  or  a 
bore."  It  is  a  more  than  singular  fact  that  in  all  the  years 
they  passed  together  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Lord  John 
Russell  had  no  personal  relations  with  Sir  Robert  Peel.  He 
gives  evidence  of  this  in  one  of  his    Essays.     This  attitude 

'  "  A  tiler,"  he  says  again,  "  takes  his  newspaper  on  the  roof  to  read." 
A  Frenchman  would  soon  come  down  to  talk  politics  with  his  comrades. 


THE   ENGLISHMAN  115 

towards  their  fellows  is  due  in  part  to  timidity,  mingled 
with  a  certain  coldness  of  temperament  and  some  aridity 
of  heart. 

In  short,  the  English  unite  for  action,  and  keep  company 
with  one  another  the  better  to  combine  their  forces  and  the 
more  surely  to  attain  a  certain  end  ;  they  do  not  assemble  for 
the  purpose  of  talking  or  to  pass  the  time  agreeably  in 
conversation.  They  leave  the  Frenchman  to  sacrifice  to 
this  superfluity,  which  in  his  eyes  forms  the  charm  and 
prize  of  life,  more  actual  and  necessary  advantages. 

The  effects  of  such  a  disposition  are  considerable.  Volney 
regarded  it  as  the  reason  of  Englishmen's  success  in  agricul- 
ture, commerce,  and  industry.  Their  silence,  he  said,  enables 
them  to  concentrate  their  ideas,  and  gives  them  leisure  to 
work  them  out  and  to  make  exact  calculations  of  their 
expenses  and  returns  ;  they  acquire  a  greater  clearness  in 
thought,  and  consequently  in  expression,  which  results  in  a 
greater  precision  and  assurance  in  their  whole  system  of 
conduct,  both  public  and  private.  This  observer  attributes 
to  the  same  cause  the  unequal  fortunes  of  the  English  and 
French  colonies  in  the  United  States.  "  The  French  colonist," 
he  said,  "  takes  counsel  with  his  wife  as  to  what  he  shall  do  ; 
he  asks  her  opinion,  and  it  would  be  a  miracle  if  they  always 
agreed.  The  wife  comments,  criticises,  disputes ;  the 
husband  persists  or  gives  in,  becomes  angry  or  disheartened  : 
sometimes  the  house  becomes  intolerable  to  him,  he  takes  his 
gun  and  goes  out  shooting  or  travelling,  or  to  talk  with  his 
neighbours ;  sometimes  he  stays  at  home  and  spends  his 
time  in  good-humoured  conversation,  or  in  quarrelling  and 
fault-finding."  "To  visit  his  neighbours,"  he  says  again,  "is 
so  imperious  an  habitual  necessity  to  the  Frenchman  that  we 
cannot  find  a  single  instance  of  a  colonist  belonging  to  our 
nation  settling  out  of  hearing  and  sight  of  others,  on  any  of 
the  borders  of  Louisiana  and  Canada.  In  several  places, 
when  I    asked  at  what  distance  the  most  remote  colonist  had 


ii6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

settled  :  they  answered,  "  He  is  in  the  desert  with  the  bears,  a 
league  from  any  habitation,  and  has  no  one  to  talk  to."  The 
slow  and  taciturn  American  colonist  (read  English)  passes  the 
whole  day  in  an  uninterrupted  succession  of  useful  work  ; 
after  breakfast  he  frigidly  gives  orders  to  his  wife,  who  receives 
them  with  timidity  and  coldness  and  executes  them  without 
comment.  If  the  weather  is  fine  he  goes  out  and  works,  cuts 
down  trees  and  makes  fences  ;  if  the  weather  is  bad  he  makes 
an  inventory  of  the  house,  the  barn,  and  the  stables,  mends 
the  doors  and  makes  chairs.  If  he  has  an  opportunity  he  will 
sell  his  farm  and  go  into  the  woods  ten  or  twenty  leagues  from 
the  frontier,  and  there  make  for  himself  a  new  habitation. 

Carlyle,  who  apparently  had  not  read  Volney,  sums  up  what 
he  says  in  one  sentence  :  "The  English  are  a  dumb  people," 
and  admirably  expounds  this  saying  by  adding  that  silence 
places  them  in  touch  and  harmony  with  what  the  tongue  does 
not  express — "a  congruity  with  the  unuttered."  I  do  not 
believe  any  thinker  has  described  the  English  character  with 
greater  justice. 

With  colonisation  we  have  entered  the  economic  sphere, 
and  here  the  characteristics  of  the  race  have  other  and  very 
remarkable  effects.  It  may  cause  astonishment  that  a  people 
so  independent  of  social  relations  should  be  unusually  addicted 
to  the  formation  of  societies.  The  reason  of  this  is  that  to 
assemble  for  the  purpose  of  aimless  conversation  and  to  unite 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  certain  result  are  two  very 
different,  and,  in  a  sense,  opposite  things.  The  man  who 
rejoices  in  putting  forth  his  strength  experiences  a  tranquil  and 
complete  pleasure  in  feeling  himself  part  of  a  powerful  collec- 
tive agency.  Others,  more  indolent,  in  order  to  obtain  due 
satisfaction  from  an  activity  which  costs  them  something,  must 
set  it  by  itself,  throw  it  into  relief,  and  glorify  it  in  itself  and 
for  itself  alone.  To  the  former  this  reward  is  superfluous  ;  he 
can  do  without  it.  To  an  obscure  workman  the  knowledge  that 
he  adequately  fulfils  his  allotted  task  is  sufficient  to  make  him 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  117 

happy.  Vanity,  which  finds  him  ahx'ady  satisfied,  has  but 
h'ttle  hold  over  him.  This  accounts  for  the  readiness  with 
which  the  Eng;hshman  assumes  an  incognito  for  some  social 
reason.  The  newspapers,  for  example,  have  always  remained 
faithful  to  the  custom  of  unsigned  articles.  This  custom 
could  never  become  the  rule  in  our  country,  because  the 
Frenchman  docs  not  really  love  action  for  its  own  sake  ;  the 
velocity  acquired  by  a  collective  entity  of  which  he  is  part 
seldom  carries  him  off"  his  feet  and  sweeps  him  irresistibly 
along.  He  can  always  extricate  himself,  and,  reassuming  his 
identity  at  will,  easily  forfeit  his  anonymity.  In  England, 
when  a  man  has  once  surrendered  his  identity,  it  never  occurs 
to  him  to  withdraw  from  the  contract.  The  English,  though 
profoundly  individual,  are  nevertheless  peculiarly  qualified  for 
collective  operations  ;  they  have  a  superior  power  of  coalition 
and  ability  to  work  collectively  which  is  unknown  among 
races  who  arc  less  active  and  more  absurdly  vain. 

3. — The  Spirit  of  /Adventure  and  the  Spirit  of  Self- 
Preservation. 

In  England,  the  spirit  of  adventure  always  proceeds  from  the 
same  source,  and  from  this  source  it  derives  its  character. 
The  love  of  novelty  and  desire  for  the  unknown  have  one 
hindrance — the  Englishman  is  always  English  and  leads  a 
thoroughly  English  life  wherever  he  goes.  The  main  fact 
and  distinctive  trait  of  his  spirit  of  adventure,  the  turning- 
point,  so  to  speak,  is  that  the  prospective  risks  involved  dis- 
courage him  less  easily  than  the  Frenchman  or  the  Italian,  for 
instance.  To  the  prudent  man,  all  risks  resolve  themselves  into 
prospective  superfluous  anxieties,  and  efforts  towards  anticipat- 
ing or  counterbalancing  them.  The  individual  who  does  not 
fear  trouble  takes  his  share  in  these  chances  lightly.  Love  of 
repose  does  not  make  him  exaggerate  the  attraction  and  value 
of  security.     The  surplus  energy  and  disposable  force  he  feels 


ii8  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

conscious  of  possessing,  engender  a  sort  of  optimism  which,  in 
his  imagination,  diminishes  the  probability  of  misfortune  and 
relegates  to  eternity  the  moment  when  he  expects  to  encounter 
weariness.  The  manners  and  customs  of  the  English  bear 
continual  evidence  of  this  disposition  of  mind.  The  young 
man  bravely  marries  the  undowered  woman  ;  he  does  not 
hesitate  to  double  or  treble  his  burdens  at  the  commencement 
of  life.  The  manufacturer  essays  a  new  process  with  a  con- 
fidence and  expenditure  of  capital  which  startle  us.  He  knows 
that  he  will  have  recuperated  himself  before  another  improve- 
ment intervenes  and  puts  his  on  the  shelf.  The  emigrant 
embarks  with  a  tiny  hoard  which  his  laborious  obstinacy  will 
force  to  yield  a  hundred  per  cent. 

Besides  this  first  cause  there  is  a  second,  which  I  have 
already  pointed  out,  viz.,  the  passion — I  was  going  to  say  the 
mania — for  action  and  movement,  the  unreasoning  desire  of 
effort  for  the  sake  of  effort.  In  the  very  depths  of  his  being 
this  great  mainspring  of  the  Englishman's  activity  is  at  a 
tension.  It  begins  as  a  wholly  physical  need,  in  some  degree  a 
muscular  one  ;  the  impetus  of  the  nerves  is  not  required  to 
call  it  abruptly  into  activity  nor  cause  it  to  relax  ;  it  assumes 
the  initiative  in  this  homogeneous  and  single  soul,  which  is 
neither  enriched  nor  diversified  by  visible  impressions  from  the 
outer  world ;  which  is  essentially  inflexible,  not  composed 
of  mobile  elements,  capable  of  resisting  the  general  impulsion 
they  receive.  The  necessity  for  action  is  a  force  which 
overrules  every  inclination.  We  cannot  help  noting  that 
the  majority  of  the  English  employ  a  sustained  activity  in 
directions  already  known  and  sanctioned  by  custom  ;  they 
keep  to  the  old  highway  along  which  they  have  travelled  for 
centuries ;  they  do  not  favour  by-paths.  Only  a  feeble 
minority  undertake  the  modification  of  arrangements  handed 
down  by  tradition,  and  they  do  not  attempt  more  than  one 
point  at  a  time  ;  on  this  they  expend  all  their  force,  allowing 
their  name  to  be  attached  to  it  and  refusing  to  be  seduced  by 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  119 

the  idea  of  wider  and  more  fruitful  fields  for  their  energy  ; 
they  invariably  remain  faithful  to  their  crotchet.  Until  his 
last  hour  Mr.  PlimsoU  was  the  representative  and  supporter  of 
the  navy  versus  the  merchant  service  ;  from  year  to  year  Sir 
Wilfrid  Lawson  indcfatigably  renews  his  Local  Option  Bill  ; 
each  devoted  himself  to  one  question.  In  France,  these 
circumscribed  and  persevering  activities  are  unknown  ;  they 
would  not  be  estimated  at  their  proper  value.  With  our 
neighbours,  men  who  employ  their  whole  lives  in  this  way  arc 
looked  upon  as  honourable  and  well  employed. 

The  missionaries  deliberately  choose  a  distant  sphere  of 
work,  ignoring  other  spheres  also  under  the  eye  of  God. 
They  yield  themselves  up  wholly  to  their  daily  task,  obtaining 
from  it  personal  satisfactions  which  do  not  require  the  enhance- 
ment of  pleasing  surroundings.  Further,  it  is  by  no  means 
apparent  that  they  have  journeyed  to  the  very  horizon  in 
the  search  for  and  contemplation  of  an  ideal  purpose,  capable 
of  raising  them  above  their  earthly  work.  "  It  is  part  of  the 
day's  work  ;  it  comes  in  the  day's  work."  This  thoroughly 
English  expression  is  what  we  hear  from  the  kind  of  man  who 
examines  his  conscience  every  evening,  regulates  his  accounts 
with  his  God,  and  goes  to  sleep  completely  satisfied.  He  is 
not  possessed  by  the  despairing  idea  of  a  remote  object  which 
must  be  attained  or  a  good  work  he  has  not  time  to  accom- 
plish. It  is  the  day's  work  ;  night  and  sleep  limit  both  his 
desires  and  his  efforts. 

The  reason  of  this  difference  between  the  two  nations  is 
apparent.  With  us,  the  incentive  and  stimulus  of  the  necessity 
for  action  are  not  only  the  greatness  and  force  of  this  necessity, 
but  come  from  a  higher  and  more  remote  source  ;  the  spirit 
itself  gives  the  impulsion,  and  with  a  power  and  variety  which 
is  in  proportion  to  its  own  fulness  and  richness  of  life,  con- 
cealing more  than  one  contradiction.  Moreover,  the  principle 
from  which  it  proceeds  is  often  an  abstract  idea,  which  raises 
several  questions  at  the  same  time  and  on  which   depends  the 


I20  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

solution  of  more  than  one  problem.  The  mind  also  is  more 
prone  to  change  its  designs  and  discontinue  its  efforts.  The 
speculative  spirit  of  the  thinker  and  the  searcher  carries  him 
rapidly  from  one  novelty  to  another  and  multiplies  the  points 
at  which  it  deviates  from  tradition.  In  England,  the  thinker 
and  the  searcher  have  little  occasion  to  intervene  ;  they  appear 
for  a  moment  at  the  appeal  of  the  necessity  for  action  by  w^hich 
every  individual  is  possessed  ;  they  point  out,  if  need  be,  a 
question,  one  only,  which  seems  to  them  worthy  of  a  persistent 
effort ;  then,  having  put  in  motion  an  activity  which  is  suffi- 
cient in  itself  and  needs  no  further  assistance  from  them,  they 
re-enter  their  silence  and  semi-slumber.  This  is  the  reason 
why  England  can  number  so  many  original  characters,  and  not 
one  revolutionary  spirit.  The  original  character  is  one  which 
has  thrown  off  the  shackles  of  a  given  law,  yet  recognises  the 
authority  of  every  other  law  ;  at  one  point  it  is  emancipated, 
but  only  to  be  more  servilely  submissive  to  tradition  in  general ; 
it  is  always  the  upholder  of  the  statu  quo.  The  revolutionary 
spirit  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  the  original  character  ;  it  is  a 
partisan  of  all,  or  nearly  all,  novelties  ;  to  it,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
they  seem  linked  together  and  mutually  sustained  ;  religion, 
literature,  and  politics  it  always  seeks  to  reform  ;  it  is  a  spirit, 
and  therefore  mobile  and  subtle  ;  from  one  problem  it  passes  to 
another,  embracing  them  all  in  a  somewhat  superficial  survey. 
Intelligences  of  this  stamp  are  naturally  rare  in  England.  The 
genius  of  a  Saint-Simon  could  not  have  expanded  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Channel  ;  what  chance  of  developing  would  it  have 
had  in  a  country  where  Mill  himself  felt  obliged  to  use  cir- 
cumspection and  euphemisms  ?  Persons  like  Blanqui  and 
Barbes  could  not  have  adopted  in  England  the  attitude  which 
characterised  them  in  France  ;  instead  of  the  sympathy  and 
respect  they  encountered  among  certain  of  the  public  they 
would  only  have  excited  universal  repugnance  and  contempt. 
This  is  the  reason  why  England  has  the  reputation  of  being 
a   country   of   tradition,  averse    even    to    the    most    necessary 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  121 

changes.  To  three-quarters  of  the  population  the  idea  of 
introducing  a  modification  into  any  of  the  laws  or  customs 
does  not  occur ;  they  are  creatures  of  habit  in  the  highest 
degree.  At  particular  points  the  other  quarter  admit  innova- 
tions, which,  however,  cover  a  very  limited  field  ;  they  devote 
themselves  to  these  innovations,  pursuing  them  with  ardour  ; 
but  on  all  other  points  they  are  as  sheeplike  as  the  rest  of  the 
nation.  It  was  therefore  with  justice  that  Carlyle  cried  out  : 
"  Bull  is  a  born  Conservative.  .  .  .  All  great  peoples  are 
conservative,  slow  to  believe  in  novelties,  patient  of  much 
error  in  actualities,  deeply  and  for  ever  certain  of  the  greatness 
that  is  in  law,  in  custom,  once  solemnly  established  and  now 
long  recognised  as  just  and  final." 

The  English  people  has  had  to  do  violence  to  itself  in  order 
to  achieve  the  greater  part  of  that  material  progress  by  which 
it  now  profits  with  its  customary  practical  superiority.  It 
began  by  regarding  with  contempt,  anxiety,  and  sometimes 
even  horror,  the  most  innocent  and  useful  discoveries :  the 
use  of  steam  by  Arkwright  and  the  submarine  telegraph, 
the  Suez  Canal  and  the  Universal  Exhibition,  the  postal 
reform  and  the  Channel  tunnel.  With  greater  reason 
organic  reforms  in  the  Government  have  always  been 
treated  as  views  and  dangerous  experiments  for  quite  a  long 
time.  In  the  same  way  "  cant,"  that  sort  of  hypocrisy 
peculiar  to  the  English,  sets  new  philosophical  theories 
aside  without  discussion. 

It  may  appear  extraordinary  that  a  race  which  possesses 
in  so  large  a  measure  the  passion  for  liberty,  courage,  and 
initiative,  which  has  little  scruple  in  altering  its  conception 
of  heaven  and  adventures  boldly  into  the  unknown,  should 
profess  so  much  respect  for  the  past  and  cling  to  a  super- 
stitious continuance  of  its  ancient  customs.  The  antinomy 
is  only  superficial,  and  arises  from  the  fact  that  an  inclina^ 
tion  towards  action  and  movement  is  easily  confounded  with 
an  inclination   towards  novelty.     It   is   the   passive  characters 


122  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

who  require  novelty.  Stationary  themselves,  they  want  a 
world  of  animation  around  them,  a  continually  changing 
scene  which,  without  effort  on  their  part,  maintains  the 
interest  of  life  ;  theories  and  actualities  which  create  as  by 
magic  the  true  and  the  good,  without  demanding  from 
them  a  tithe  of  patient  labour.  On  the  other  hand,  .those 
for  whom  concentrated  and  continued  effort  is  the  supreme 
joy,  seek  in  it  alone  efficiency  and  success  ;  they  are  inclined 
to  the  belief  that  there  is  little  difference  in  the  virtue  and 
usefulness  of  one  mechanism  and  another,  independently  of 
the  impulse  and  direction  they  receive  from  man.  Moreover, 
they  instinctively  desire  that  the  ideas  and  actualities  which 
give  the  impetus  and  direction  to  their  activity  should  change 
no  more  than  is  indispensable,  in  order  that  the  movement 
they  produce  should  not  be  hindered  nor  weakened,  but 
follow  the  precise  course  they  have  marked  out  for  it.  Finally, 
what  force  can  counterbalance  that  of  custom  and  foreknow- 
ledge when  great  generalisations  do  not  intoxicate,  nor  the 
mirage  of  system  exercise  a  supreme  seduction  ?  What  dis- 
solvent other  than  that  of  abstract  principles  is  capable  of 
disaggregating  such  hard  basalts  ?  It  is  precisely  because 
the  race  is  active  and  energetic  that  it  remains  so  faithfully 
attached  to  its  traditional  institutions. 


PART   IV 

THE    ENGLISHMAN  AS   POLITICIAN 


CHAPTER    I 


THE    CITIZEN 


I. — Liberty  and  the  Revolutionary  Spirit. 

At  a  first  glance  we  do  not  receive  the  impression  that  the 
English  nation  is  easy  to  govern.  The  muscular  vigour  of 
the  race — their  taste  for  violent  exercise,  such  as  boxing  ; 
for  cruel  amusements,  such  as  cock-fighting  and,  in  former 
times,  bull-fights — and  their  habits  of  intemperance,  are  not 
reassuring  conditions  :  they  do  not  promise  much  breathing 
time  for  authority.  There  is  no  medium  in  England  between 
the  domestic  hearth  and  the  exchange  or  the  forum.  The 
desire  for  ideas  simply  as  ideas  has  not  sufficient  strength  to 
make  men  seek  each  other's  society  in  order  to  talk  ;  the 
desire  for  action  for  its  own  sake  is  the  one  thing  capable 
of  bringing  them  together.  Social  life  is  therefore  summed 
up  in  industrial,  commercial,  and,  more  especially,  political 
life.  Now  political  life  in  England  is  characterised  by  violent 
and  incessant  agitation.  In  one  week  an  observer  can  witness 
in  London  numerous  electoral  meetings,  when  the  crowd 
expend  their  breath  in  hurrahing  and  chaff,  corporation 
meetings,  banquets  with  toasts  and  acclamations,  gigantic 
processions  of  petitioners  with  banners,  and  noisy,  enthu- 
siastic receptions  of  any  illustrious  foreigner.  To  these 
might  have  been  added  not  long  ago  the  tumult  of  the 
hustings,  with  its  flights  of  sarcasm  and  showers  of  bad 
eggs  and  mud  falling  on   the  candidates.     Regarded  at   close 


126  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

quarters,  all  this  is  not  very  alarming.  In  such  agitations 
the  blind  and  absolutely  physical  emotion  is  greatly  in  excess 
of  the  passionate  or  deliberate.  The  Englishman's  first 
instinct  is  to  exercise  his  members  and  use  his  lungs,  and 
this  he  does  lustily  for  the  benefit  of  the  person  or  question 
which  circumstances,  tradition,  and  custom  point  out  to  him. 
Three-quarters  of  his  enthusiasm  is  simply  a  species  of  sport ; 
grave  conviction  and  deep  feeling  make  up  the  remaining 
quarter.  Foreign  refugees  such  as  Orsini,  and,  before  him, 
Kossuth,  vi'ho  took  seriously  their  prodigious  success  as  popular 
orators,  and  believed  in  a  movement  of  public  opinion  in  favour 
of  their  political  dreams,  were  singularly  deceived  in  the  event. 
They  only  stirred  up  the  animal  spirits  of  the  crowd ;  funda- 
mentally, their  cause  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the  people. 
What  the  populace  cheered  was  the  man  of  action,  not  his 
cause.  Moreover,  it  gave  them  the  pleasure  of  gulping  down 
air  and  emptying  their  lungs,  and  warming  themselves  by 
clapping  their  hands  and  stamping  their  feet. 

We  touch  here  on  one  of  the  reasons  why  liberty  of  com- 
bination and  assemblage  is  regarded  as  innocuous  in  England, 
and  even  included  among  guarantees  of  order  and  methods  of 
pacification.  It  is  too  great  a  risk  to  entrust  guns  to  people 
eager  to  load  with  shot,  and  have  something  definite  at  which 
to  aim  ;  but  there  is  sensibly  less  risk  with  those  who  find 
almost  as  much  pleasure  in  shooting  with  powder  and  in  the 
air.  An  Englishman,  on  the  return  of  a  fruitless  political 
procession,  does  not  experience,  like  the  Frenchman,  a  fever 
of  disappointment  and  redoubling  of  excitement ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  feels  a  sense  of  cessation,  of  peace  and  content- 
ment. This  is  because  the  procession  has  really  attained  its 
end,  in  that  it  has  given  him  the  opportunity  of  expending  his 
superfluous  physical  energy.  Liberty  of  assemblage  therefore, 
acts  as  a  regulator  racier  than  a  basin  in  which  the  force  of 
the  current  is  concentrated  :  it  resembles  a  canal  for  the 
reception    and    discharge    of    water,    which    moderates    the 


THE   CITIZEN  127 

effect  of  the  rising  flood,  and  allows  only  a  harmless  stream 
to  flow  between  the  banks. 

This  is  the  reason  why  the  suppression  of  the  hustings 
was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  steps  in  the  direction  of 
universal  suffrage  and  democracy.  The  law  of  1872  attacked 
what  seemed  to  be  only  a  farce  in  the  worst  of  taste  ;  but  this 
farce  of  a  day,  during  which  the  crowd  satisfied  to  repletion  its 
brutal  appetite  for  power,  shrouded  the  real  act  of  sovereignty, 
to  all  appearance  mean  and  insignificant,  in  a  veil  of  dust,  noise 
and  intoxication,  which  prevented  their  attaching  due  value  to 
it,  and  grudging  the  ballot  to  the  freehold  electors.  The  system 
of  secret  voting,  while  it  deprived  the  people  of  their  few  hours 
of  power  during  which  they  exhausted  their  superfluous 
bestiality,  also  unwisely  took  -away  from  them  that  participa- 
tion which  rendered  them  less  sensible  to,  and  that  com- 
pensation which  softened,  the  bitter  sentiment  of  inequality 
and  exclusion  of  which  they  were  conscious.  The  levelling 
of  electoral  franchise  of  necessity  followed  close  on  so  im- 
prudent a   measure. 

It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  English  that  the  communication 
between  the  organs  of  contemplation  and  action  is  naturally 
imperfect.  The  impressions  received  from  the  outside  world 
are  reproduced  in  the  nerves  and  brain  of  this  people  with  less 
rapidity  and  certainty  than  is  the  case  with  other  nations  ;  and 
the  effect  of  such  impressions,  like  that  of  the  ideas  themselves, 
is  more  tardily  felt  in  the  mechanism  set  in  motion  by  the  will. 
The  impulses  of  an  Englishman  either  remain  dormant  or  do 
not  move  him  to  action  until  a  long  time  afterwards.  The  ease 
with  which  duelling  was  discouraged,  not  only  among  civilians 
but  also  in  the  army,  is  a  good  illustration  of  this  native  passive- 
ness.  The  anger  provoked  by  an  outrage  flares  up  less  rapidly 
in  England  than  elsewhere.  This  is  the  reason  why,  in  a 
country  where  the  classes  which  work  and  suffer  have  the 
right  of  assembling  in  almost  unlimited  numbers,  there  is  yet 
no  disorder  which  a  policeman  cannot  control.      But  we  must 


128  THE   ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

not  be  deceived  ;  this  passiveness  has  nothing  in  common  with 
the  inertia  which,  with  other  races,  proceeds  from  want  of  tone 
and  energy  in  the  operation  of  the  will.  In  England,  it  simply 
renders  the  will  stronger  and  more  efficient  because  it  is  freer 
to  pursue  with  steadfastness  the  object  it  has  in  view.  No 
fleeting  incident  goads  or  distracts  it  ;  no  lateral  attraction 
turns  it  from  the  straight  line.  It  is  like  a  spring  which 
works  with  perfect  regularity  between  the  thick  cushions 
of  an  insensibility  which  deadens  shocks  from  the  outer  world. 
We  must  therefore,  realise,  that  passiveness  of  this  nature  is  an 
aid  to  the  police,  but  it  certainly  does  not  contribute  to  political 
authority,  nor  does  it  lighten  the  task  of  government.  The 
populace  is  generally  more  amenable  in  England  than  else- 
where ;  it  is  not  so  liable  to  outbursts  of  anger  ;  but  this 
does  not  mean  that  the  nation  is  more  manageable  and  easily 
satisfied  on  subjects  which  it  has  most  at  heart.  The  fact  that 
rioting  is  infrequent  is  no  guarantee  against  political  agitation 
nor  even  revolution.  The  people  who  quietly  disperse  at  the 
sight  of  a  constable,  are  as  rock  to  statesmen  who  try  to  move 
them  when  they  have  made  up  their  minds  on  any  given 
point  ;  particularly  is  this  the  case  with  that  obstinate  demand 
of  theirs  for  a  free  field  for  demonstration,  protest,  and  struggle. 
Serenely  they  use  their  right  to  assemble  and  combine,  and 
whoever  essays  to  deprive  them  of  it  will  immediately  become 
conscious  of  the  depths  of  vehement  passion  and  tenacity  which 
this  serenity  conceals. 

I  will  now  proceed  to  demonstrate  that  the  political  fran- 
chises of  England  are  conquests  which  have  adroitly  been 
made  to  pass  as  an  immemorial  heritage.  The  Declaration 
of  1688,  which  refused  the  King  power  to  maintain  troops 
without  special  permission,  claimed  for  English  subjects  the 
right  to  carry  arms.  This  is  nothing  less  than  the  right  of 
rebellion  with  power  to  make  reservations  and  demand 
guarantees.  This  right  has  never  been  explicitly  proclaimed, 
but  although  seldom  mentioned,  it  is  none  the  less  an  element 


THE   CITIZEN  129 

of  the  Constitution,  a  basis  for  other  rights.  It  might  best  be 
likened  to  a  reserve  battalion,  which,  though  separated  from  the 
main  force  and  placed  a  little  in  the  rear,  is  yet  within  range  of 
voice  and  command.  In  more  recent  years  this  right  was 
referred  to  in  a  speech  by  no  less  an  orator  than  Gladstone. 
The  President  of  the  Board  of  Trade,  Mr.  Chamberlain,  was 
accused  in  the  House  of  Commons  of  having  alluded  to,  and 
more  or  less  provoked,  in  an  extra-parliamentary  harangue,  a 
descent  of  the  inhabitants  of  Birmingham  on  the  Palace  of 
Westminster.  The  Prime  Minister  took  vip  the  defence  of 
his  colleague,  saying,  that  though  it  might  be  well  to  bid  the 
people  love  order  and  hate  violence,  that  was  not  the  only  thing 
necessary.  Certainly,  he  said,  he  was  averse  to  the  employment 
of  force,  but  he  could  not,  and  would  not,  adopt  those  forms  of 
effeminate  language  by  which  the  consoling  fact  was  concealed 
from  the  nation,  that  they  might  find  encouragement  in  the 
thought  of  their  previous  struggles,  the  recollection  of  the 
great  attainments  of  their  ancestors,  and  the  consciousness 
that  these  attainments  were  still  theirs. 


2. — Inequality  of  Conditions. 

Activity  without  interruption  or  limit,  and  competition 
without  truce  or  pity,  for  ten  centuries  these  have  been  the 
most  obvious  characteristics  of  economic  England.  The 
natural  consequence  of  activity  without  interruption  or  limit  is 
an  enormous  accumulation  of  capital.  The  natural  conse- 
quence of  competition  without  truce  or  pity  is  a  very  unequal 
distribution  of  these  immense  riches.  In  England  the  feeble, 
the  infirm,  the  timid  and  the  idle  are  lost.  Just  as  in  a  crowd 
which  presses  on  towards  a  goal  :  whoever  once  gets  the 
start  is  swept  forward  and  carried  to  the  end  of  the  course  ; 
whoever  slackens  is  soon  outstripped  and  forced  far  back  by 
the  eddies  of  the  human  wave  ;  whoever  misses  a  step  is 
knocked    over,    trampled    under    foot    and    forgotten.      This 

K 


I30  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

occurs  so  frequently  that  Society  has  been  compelled  to 
assume  the  duty  of  picking  up  and  setting  aside  those  who  are 
injured  and  mutilated  in  the  feverish  struggle  ;  and  hence  the 
laws  relating  to  the  poor.  The  indigent  are  picked  up,  put  away 
in  decent  houses,  and  no  longer  in  evidence.  In  these  asylums 
generations  silently  pass  away.  In  no  other  country  does 
humanity  present  the  spectacle  of  a  harder  "struggle  for  life," 
of  a  more  merciless  selection.  It  is  noticeable  that  in  England 
the  climate  is  on  the  side  of  the  strong.  The  individual  and 
the  species  in  this  latitude  and  these  fogs  cannot  be  preserved 
without  abundant  nourishment,  precautions  and  a  hygiene 
which  infers  a  certain  degree  of  wealth.  Whoever  falls  below 
this  degree  decays,  degenerates,  and  eventually  perishes.  Careful 
observers  who  know  England  can  remember,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  have  still  before  their  eyes,  the  striking  results  of  this 
unbroken  selection.  They  have  all  noticed  the  two  races,  if  I 
may  so  designate  them,  who,  at  a  first  glance,  are  characterised 
by  two  physical  types  as  different  as  the  greyhound  and  the 
bull-dog,  with  whom  they  have  more  than  one  trait  in  common. 
The  one,  slender,  vigorous,  agile,  with  fresh  colouring  and 
animated  physiognomy  ;  the  other,  cadaverous,  with  leaden 
eyes  and  concentrated,  or  rather  sunk,  in  himself ;  the  first 
maintained  with  infinite  care,  thanks  to  an  abundant  and 
wholesome  diet,  continuous  exercise  and  habits  of  decorum 
and  restraint  ;  the  second,  deformed,  wasted  and  ruined  in  less 
than  a  generation  by  insufficient  nourishment,  and  the  abuse 
of  strong  liquors,  unrelaxing  labour  and  insufficient  recreation, 
and  finally  and  chiefly  by  self-abandonmGnt  and  a  sort  of 
callous  indifference,  which  are  vices  common  to  all  the 
wretched,  and  allow  man  to  succumb  without  an  effort  to  the 
destructive  operation  of  natural  causes. 

Further,  riches  have  been  elevated  into  a  quasi  virtue  whilst 
poverty  is  considered  a  vice  and  disgrace.  This  is  because 
riches  are  the  reward  of  that  effort  and  industry  which  are 
regarded  in  England  as  the  sovereign  good,  and  moreover  they 


THE   CITIZEN  131 

form  an  indispensable  environment  if  man  is  to  preserve  the 
integrity  of  his  person  and  faculties.  Again,  poverty  is  the 
sign  of  a  thing  particularly  to  be  detested,  viz.,  idleness  ;  and 
it  is  but  a  short  journey  from  indolence,  which  docs  not  take 
life  seriously,  to  the  degradation  of  the  human  being.  This 
moral  consideration  joins  the  harshness  of  a  conscientious 
judgment  to  the  natural  passiveness  of  the  British  race  when 
forced  into  an  acknowledgment  of  the  injustice  of  fate.  Not 
only  are  favourites  of  fortune  lacking  in  feeling,  but  they 
generally  condemn  the  unfortunate  and  those  who  have  in- 
curred what  is  often  unmerited  disgrace  ;  they  more  frequently 
feel  inclined  to  profit  by  than  ameliorate  it,  and  they  only 
suggest  a  remedy  with  obvious  contempt  to  those  who  have 
failed  in  life.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  brutal  insensibility  of 
the  conduct  of  those  English  masters,  which  was  brought  to 
light  by  agricultural  and  industrial  inquiries,  during  the  earlier 
part  of  the  last  century.  We  recognise  in  it  not  only  a  certain 
native  slowness  in  receiving  impressions,  but  also  the  absorbed 
indifference  of  the  man  of*  action,  too  occupied  with  his  aims  to 
be  attentive  to  those  ills  of  others  of  which  he  is  the  cause. 
It  is  like  the  half  irresponsible  callousness  of  the  hurried 
traveller  who  crushes  an  ant-heap  rather  than  hinder  himself 
by  a  step. 

In  short,  the  basis  of  the  English  character  is  that  proauced 
by  the  most  eager  competitions,  and  deafest  and  blindest 
of  "struggles  for  life."  Although  the  development  of  riches 
has  sensibly  diminished  the  violence  of  the  struggle,  and 
allowed  the  augmentation  of  the  gratuitous  part  of  advantages, 
at  the  same  time  as  the  protection  assured  to  the  feeble  a 
marked  inequality  in  conditions  is  none  the  less  apparent,  so 
to  speak,  in  the  force  of  things,  and  equality,  if  an  effort  is 
made  to  re-establish  it,  continuously  tends  towards  its  own 
destruction. 

It  is  a  paradox  confirmed  by  fact?  that  any  excess  there  may 
be  in  the  inequality  between  the  classes  creates  a  condition  by 


132  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

which  the  evil  may  be  more  patiently  supported  by  those  who 
endure  it.  Below  a  certain  degree  of  degradation  and  misery, 
man  loses  hope,  will,  and  even  the  idea  of  improving  his 
condition  j  he  becomes  a  prey  to  the  stupefying  intoxication 
of  misfortune  and  falls  into  a  sort  of  insensibility.  The  life 
which  is  in  him  becomes  purely  mechanical  ;  he  imagines  and 
desires  nothing  but  what  he  is,  for  what  is,  is  fated  to  be,  and 
this  to  an  obtuse  intelligence  is  confounded  with  what  ought 
to  be.  When  the  inequality  is  sufficiently  accentuated  to  be  a 
source  of  suffering,  and  yet  is  not  too  great  to  remove  all  hope 
of  banishing  it,  then  only  does  it  provoke  jealousy  and  resistance. 
This  has  been  the  case  in  France.  Tocqueville  made  the  pro- 
found observation  that  the  Revolution  burst  forth  there  and 
not  elsewhere,  because  France  was  the  country  where  the 
lower  classes  had  made  the  most  progress  in  ease  and  comfort. 
They  could  form  a  better  idea  of  what  they  still  lacked  ;  they 
could  more  easily  imagine  a  condition  in  which  what  was 
lacking  would  be  bestowed  on  them.  Moreover,  they  ex- 
perienced an  ill  the  cure  of  which  appeared  to  them  easy. 

The  majority  of  the  working  classes  in  England,  and 
especially  the  intelligent  few  who  march  at  their  head,  are  at 
present  in  much  the  same  case  ;  they  have  passed  the  limit 
beyond  which  suffering  is  wholly  conscious,  reaction  against 
the  evil  determined  and  deliberate,  and  the  means  employed 
sure  and  effective.  The  perfected  organisation  of  the  trade 
unions  betrays  a  people  who  know  the  value  of  their  rights 
and  have  made  an  art  of  employing  them. 

The  fact  that  England  is  a  northern  country  indubitably 
adds  to  the  reasonableness  of  these  demands  and  aggravates 
their  danger.  In  the  South,  man  has  but  icw  wants,  subsists 
on  little  and  lives  out  of  doors  ;  the  magnificence  with  which 
Nature  freely  surrounds  him  is  the  source  of  an  enjoyment  far 
more  intense  than  that  derived  from  the  costly  luxury  and 
laboured  comfort  of  human  habitations.  That  which  the  rich 
have  more  than  the  poor   becomes  in  such  case  a  futile  super- 


THE   CITIZEN  133 

fluity,  of  which  the  poor  take  no  heed.  In  a  country  like 
England,  where  riches  are  an  essential  condition  of  happiness, 
the  social  hierarchy  which  sanctions  and  perpetuates  unequal 
distribution  must  weigh  heavily  on  those  whom  it  does  not 
favour.  How  can  those  classes  who  have  the  lesser  portion 
avoid  continually  comparing  themselves  with  others  ?  How 
can  they  possess  the  faculty  of  not  being  acutely  conscious  of 
the  inferiority  of  their  lot  and  of  supporting  the  partial 
distribution  with  equanimity  ? 

A  people  like  the  English,  who  find  their  chief  source  of 
enjoyment  in  action,  are  secure  to  a  certain  extent  from  this 
feeling  of  discontent.  Personal  contentment,  the  sort  of 
growth  of  being  which  the  man  who  acts  vigorously  experiences 
in  himself,  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  differences  of 
condition  and  fortune  ;  it  is  an  entirely  subjective  enjoyment, 
measurable  solely  by  the  intensity  and  efficacy  of  the  effort 
accomplished.  It  is  equally  complete  and  acute  whatever  the 
object  of  the  effort,  and  as  varied  in  its  nature  as  are  external 
circumstances.  Here,  then,  is  to  be  found  a  prime  fund  of 
happiness  within  the  reach  of  every  one,  a  first  dividend  for  all, 
which,  to  a  certain  extent,  softens  the  bitterness  of  the  feeling 
of  the  injustice  of  this  world.  However  mediocre  the  position 
of  an  Englishman  in  Society,  however  humble  his  profession, 
the  mere  fact  that  he  has  a  profound  consciousness  of  the 
individual  pleasure  attached  to  effort,  renders  him  in  a  sense 
the  equal  of  princes,  and  inferior  to  none. 

It  is  perfectly  obvious  why  the  men  of  the  English  working 
classes  have  hitherto  evinced  little  desire  to  change  the  aristo- 
cratic constitution  of  society  ;  they  have  a  secret  compensa- 
tion which  is  not  to  be  found  amongst  those  of  their  own 
standing  in  other  countries.  In  the  social  hierarchy  they  are 
conscious  of  a  fair  division  of  labour  rather  than  of  an  unjust 
distribution  of  enjoyment.  They  are  occupied  in  proportioning 
the  extent  of  their  effort  rather  than  in  comparing  their  lot 
with  that  of  others,  or  if  they  do  indeed  take  themselves  as  a 


134  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

subject  for  comparison,  it  is  with  their  fellows  in  the  same 
class,  and  the  parallel  bears  on  the  energy  and  success  of  each 
individual's  activity.  In  England,  many  Hves  which  are  very 
humble,  narrow,  laborious,  and  made  up,  to  all  appearance,  of 
a  succession  of  futile  efforts  and  mediocrity,  would,  if  closely 
analysed,  be  found  to  yield  a  satisfaction  as  full,  and  a  felicity  as 
complete,  as  that  of  the  titled  heir  to  one  of  the  great  English 
fortunes.  George  Eliot  reproduced  this  type  with  an  indelible 
pencil  in  the  person  of  Tom  Tulliver.  The  desire  for  action 
and  effort  places  this  happiness  within  the  reach  of  each  indi- 
vidual, and  renders  it  inaccessible  to  none.  It  will  be  impos- 
sible to  comprehend  the  singular  mansuetude  and  endurance 
on  the  part  of  the  poorer  classes  unless  we  free  ourselves  frorr\ 
the  accepted  ideas  regarding  the  practical  turn  of  mind  and 
utilitarianism  of  the  race,  and  recognise  that  there  is  in  their 
hearts,  subduing  bitter  and  trivial  impulses,  an  inward  source  of 
contentment  and  a  relative  indifference  to  social  inequalities. 

There  is  another  reason  why  the  English  have  less  difficulty 
than,  for  instance,  the  French,  in  accommodating  themselves 
to  a  political  system  founded  on  privilege.  This  tolerant 
disposition  may  be  traced  to  several  causes.  The  English 
people  are  naturally  unmannerly  and  uncouth  ;  they  have  no 
instinctive  knowledge  of  the  rules  of  polite  society,  and  to 
make  them  conform  to  it  they  need  a  long  course  of  discipline, 
and  the  hereditary  accumulation  of  impressions,  which 
gradually,  as  generations  go  by,  assume  the  ascendancy,  and 
effect  a  change  of  conditions.  The  slight  stiffness  and  self- 
consciousness  in  the  irreproachable  correctness  of  the  English 
upper  classes  betrays  how  arduous  has  been  the  victory  of  art 
and  will  over  nature.  The  original  defects  of  a  people  do  not 
always  provoke  consequences  which,  added  to  their  causes, 
magnify  the  defects  and  render  them  fatal  to  society.  By  the 
force  of  reaction  an  opposite  ideal  is  frequently  created  which, 
in  the  case  of  a  select  few,  corrects  or  tempers  these  defects, 
and     engenders    certain    particularly    exquisite    specimens    of 


THE   CITIZEN  135 

qualities  denied  to  the  masses.  It  is  because  the  Engh'shman 
is  not  natiu-ally  a  gentleman  that  there  is  m  England  a  class  of 
gentlemen.  These  creations  generally  bear  traces  of  the 
effort  which  produced  them.  Hence  a  natural  consequence  : 
the  men  of  the  lower  classes  feel  the  vast  difference  between 
themselves  and  these  products  of  art,  education  and  heredity  ; 
the  gulf  to  be  bridged  over  between  them  is  too  great,  they 
are  too  keenly  conscious  of  the  disadvantages  under  which 
they  labour,  to  have  any  ambition  to  ascend  to  the  plane  of 
the  upper  classes,  besides  whose  ease  their  awkwardness  would 
be  painfully  apparent. 

Now  in  France — especially  in  the  South — and  in  Italy,  the 
small  peasants  and  artisans,  with  their  quick  minds  and  supple 
natures,  easily  adopt  the  tone  of  any  society  into  which  they 
may  chance  to  be  thrown.  Poets  and  orators  from  birth,  they 
even  occasionally  possess  a  grand  air  and  grace  of  manner  ; 
they  believe  themselves  to  be  immediately,  and  indeed  are,  on 
a  level  with  our  educated  men.  Lack  of  instruction  and 
education  vainly  retards  their  progress ;  the  gifts  of  nature 
make  up  the  deficiency,  and  enable  them  to  retrieve  at  least 
half  what  they  have  lost.  A  few  months  of  intercourse  with 
educated  people  does  the  rest.  Such  men  are  ready  made 
and  fully  equipped  rivals  of  our  upper  classes,  and  it  is  easy 
to  understand  they  impatiently  support  social  inequalities. 
They  feel  themselves  at  the  very  first  equal  to  any  one. 
English  artisans,  with  their  solid  qualities  and  heavy  common 
sense,  are  not  conscious  of  any  right  to  such  pretensions. 
The  prospect  of  a  seat  in  Parliament,  when  they  have 
obtained  a  majority  amongst  the  electors,  rather  alarms 
than  tempts  them.  They  themselves  at  present  form  by  far 
the  greater  proportion  of  the  electors  ;  but  I  doubt  if  the 
facility  with  which  they  can  now  become  leaders  makes  them 
more  desirous  of  obtaining  such  a  position  than  they  used  to 
be.  They  cannot  imagine  themselves  entering  and  figuring 
in  such  a  sphere  ;  they  know  that  too  much  time  would  be 


136  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

required,  in  fact  that  the  whole  of  their  lives  would  not  suffice 
to  give  them  the  tone  of  the  place,  and  enable  them  to  com- 
port themselves  with  that  discreet  ease,  abandonment  without 
vulgarity,  and  gravity  tempered  by  humour,  which  the  gentle- 
man owes  to  his  education,  the  consciousness  of  his  rank  and 
the  habit  of  riches.  They  foresee  the  cold  stare  and  com- 
pressed lips  of  their  future  colleagues.  The  habits  of  urbanity, 
which  in  France  so  quickly  obliterate  social  distinctions,  are 
unknown  to  the  well-brought-up  Englishman.  Every  man, 
therefore,  keeps  to  himself,  and  does  not  soar  above  the  class 
to  which  he  belongs  ;  his  sons  or  grandsons,  perhaps,  step  up  a 
degree  and  reap  the  fruits  of  his  industrious  moderation.  In 
France,  in  each  generation,  the  lower  classes  produce  individual 
and  richly  endowed  men  who,  at  the  first  onset,  enter  into 
competition  with  the  upper  classes.  They  are  capable  of 
immediately  assuming  the  position  of  citizen,  deputy,  or 
ordinary  minister.  In  England,  the  lower  classes  do  not  feel 
capable  of  equipping  their  elect  for  the  struggle  in  less  than 
two  or  three  generations  of  gradual  and  gentle  ascent.  The 
cause  and  effect  of  this  are  obvious.  The  cause  is  that  the 
natures  of  the  English  are  less  supple,  their  genius  slower  ; 
the  effect  is  that  the  hierarchy  and  privileges  of  the  various 
classes  are  accepted  with  greater  readiness  and  endured  with 
greater  equanimity. 

3. — Tradition  and  Innovation. 

The  same  democracy  which  tolerates  the  inequalities  of  an 
aristocratic  system  of  society  has  hitherto  accepted  without 
remonstrance  the  dilatoriness  and  hesitations  of  an  equally 
balanced  government.  The  system  of  the  two  Houses,  in 
particular,  has  never  raised  the  objections  nor  excited  the 
dislike  it  has  had  to  encounter  with  us.  It  may  appear 
singular  that  a  nation  unusually  alive  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
axiom,  "Time    is    money,"  should   arrange    its    affairs   on   a 


THE   CITIZEN  137 

system  which  allows  the  postponement  of  a  reform,  held  to 
be  wise  and  urgent  by  the  popular  majority,  for  several  years. 
This  is  due  to  the  fact  that,  in  spite  of  the  generally  received 
opinion,  the  English  are  not  pure  utilitarians.  In  their  eyes 
human  activity  is  more  or  less  an  end  in  itself.  The  prospect 
of  a  practical  result  adds  a  stimulus  and  lends  a  precise  direc- 
tion to  the  effort ;  it  is  an  essential  element,  but  the  chief 
impulse  to  which  man  is  subject  arises  from  his  vivid  concep- 
tion of  the  joys  to  be  derived  from  concentrated  and  combative 
action.  The  surmountable  obstacles  he  encounters  on  his 
road  are  therefore  not  entirely  displeasing  to  him  ;  though 
they  may  retard  success,  yet  they  force  him  to  concentrate 
his  will,  render  him  more  acutely  conscious  of  its  vehemence 
and  vigour,  and  place  at  its  disposal  a  wider  field  of  action. 
The  man,  without  over  much  regret,  sees  the  course  of 
activity  lengthen  out  before  him,  his  one  stipulation  being 
that  no  effort  shall  be  altogether  without  result,  and  that 
every  step  he  takes  shall  diminish  the  distance  between  himself 
and  his  goal. 

There  are  others  to  whom  activity,  considered  in  itself, 
appears  as  a  painful  necessity.  Far  from  delighting  in  it, 
man  is  impatient  to  escape  from  it  by  means  of  success  ;  he 
hastens  to  have  done  with  it.  In  this  disposition  of  mind  the 
desire  to  attain  the  tn^  becomes  the  sole  and  only  impulse, 
and  naturally  man  is  irritated  by  the  feeblest  obstacles,  and 
angered  by  the  smallest  causes  of  delay.  He  will  only  accept 
a  constitution  where  everything  is  hurried  forward.  This  is 
why  the  system  of  one  Chamber  still  finds  many  partisans  in 
France.  Its  history  is  too  well  known  for  me  to  have  to 
dwell  upon  it  now.  Hitherto  the  violent  outbursts  of  anger 
on  the  part  of  the  English  nation  against  the  House  of  Lords 
have  only  been  a  method  of  intimidating  and  constraining  it, 
and  have  never  betrayed  a  deep-seated  animosity  nor  permanent 
incompatibility  of  temper. 

The  same  opposite  tendencies  of  the  two  nations  are  rcpro- 


138  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

duced  in  their  legislative  procedure,  which  with  us  is  relatively 
expeditious,  while  England  has  suffered,  and  even  up  till  1887 
appeared  to  desire,  hers  to  be  slow  and  dilatory.  A  crying 
disproportion  must  exist  between  the  number  of  urgent  require- 
ments developed  by  a  complicated  civilisation  and  the  parlia- 
mentary methods  of  providing  for  them  in  due  season,  in  order 
to  force  the  House  of  Commons  to  accept  closure  and  admit, 
under  a  still  cumbersome  and  intricate  form,  the  principle  of 
special  committees. 

I  might,  moreover,  cite  the  process  by  which  reforms  are 
effected  in  the  two  countries.  The  English  make  for  their 
goal,  indefatigably  and  unweariedly,  by  the  circuitous  route  of 
agitation  ;  articles  in  the  papers,  distribution  of  brochures, 
meetings,  demonstrations  in  the  streets,  monster  petitions ; 
all  the  trouble  they  give  themselves  is  a  source  of  pleasure 
to  them.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  relates  how,  on  one  occasion, 
on  entering  the  office  of  an  association  which  had  been  estab- 
lished for  the  reform  of  a  certain  law,  he  found  every  one  in  a 
state  of  perplexity — president,  secretaries,  and  members  of  the 
council.  The  reform  had  been  passed  in  Parliament.  The 
society  was  henceforth  objectless.  It  is  by  no  means  certain 
that  their  dismay  was  merely  the  disappointment  of  the  para- 
site defrauded  of  the  question  on  which  it  had  counted  to  live  ; 
but  there  was  indubitably  mingled  with  it  the  disappointment 
of  the  industrious  man  who  sees  himself  shut  out  of  the  parti- 
cular field  of  activity  which  he  has  reserved  for  himself,  and 
who  is  consequently  compelled  to  seek  elsewhere  an  outlet  for 
his  energy.  In  France  we  are  supremely  conscious  of  the 
tedium  and  irritation  of  these  circumlocutions.  One  thought 
alone  occupies  our  mind  :  how  to  escape  from  this  gehenna  ; 
and  with  an  impatience  which  is  partly  due  to  our  intolerance 
we  hurry  forward  by  the  short  road  of  revolution. 

There  have  always  been,  and  still  arc,  in  the  English  Par- 
liament men  thoroughly  serious  and  respected,  who  devote 
themselves  to  some  particular  project  of  reform.      From  year 


THE   CITIZEN  139 

to  year,  impervious  to  weariness  and  careless  of  ridicule,  they 
bring  up  some  little  motion,  and  again  and  again  it  is  set 
aside.  They  do  not  modify  it,  and  experience  no  temptation 
to  enlarge  its  scope.  They  never  weary  of  it,  nor  does  their 
interest  in  it  slacken.  Some  occupy  a  whole  lifetime  in  this 
way,  considering  it  well  spent.  It  may  be  said  that  they 
deliberately  choose  a  line  of  action  which,  with  a  minimum 
of  alteration,  necessitates  a  maximum  of  activity.  It  might 
also  be  said  that  their  intention  is  not  so  much  to  convince 
people  by  the  force  and  profundity  of  their  reasoning  as  to 
familiarise  them  by  repetition  with  the  proposed  measure, 
creating  for  it  a  sort  of  past  amongst  the  subjects  which 
have  alternately  occupied  the  public  mind,  and  thereby 
diminishing  the  kind  of  discredit  which  is  attached  to  a  too 
recent  novelty.  We  should  find  in  France  neither  assiduous 
orators  nor  patient  auditors  for  reforms  thus  presented.  This 
state  of  things  is  peculiar  to  England. 

Other  less  narrow  innovations  have  been  silently  introduced 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  Constitution  through  the  medium  of 
long  possession  and  desuetude.  It  is  the  strongest  power  which 
by  degrees  advances  and  gains  ground,  and  the  weakest  which 
retreats  and  abandons  it.  Here  we  have  no  test  ;  it  is  time 
which  confirms  these  slow  conquests  and  these  silent  abandon- 
ments. There  is  no  exact  moment  when  the  right  of  the  one 
is  actually  extinguished  or  set  aside  for  the  benefit  of  the  right 
of  the  other.  When  the  moment  has  arrived  for  the  removal 
of  the  last  doubt  regarding  the  new  outline  of  the  limit  between 
the  two  rights,  an  indeterminate  number  of  years  will  be  found 
to  have  already  elapsed  during  which  the  limit  has  been  imper- 
ceptibly shifting  and  changing  position.  It  is  in  this  way 
that  the  equilibrium  of  the  great  constitutional  factors  has 
become  modified  during  the  last  century.  It  has  been 
entirely  readjusted,  so  to  speak,  and  yet  so  unobtrusively,  by 
such  imperceptible  oscillatory  movements,  under  cover  of 
appearances  so  happily  invariable,  that  certain  lawyers  occu- 


I40  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

pied  with  the  letter  and  inattentive  to  the  spirit,  have  been 
unable  to  perceive  any  alteration.  The  requisite  transforma- 
tion has  been  accomplished  in  such  a  w^ay  that  the  man 
engaged  in  a  life  of  activity  is  never  conscious  of  the  dis- 
turbing impression  that  something  essential  behind  him  is 
no  longer  the  same,  nor  thinks  of  asking  himself  if  he  ought 
not  to  stop  and  turn  round  in  order  to  reconsider  the  general 
conditions  of  the  environment  in  vi^hich  his  activity  is 
exercised. 

The  Frenchman  is  like  a  mechanician  infatuated  with  a 
theory,  who  sets  to  work  to  alter  his  machine  in  accordance 
with  the  model  of  a  diagram  he  is  incessantly  endeavouring  to 
perfect.  The  Englishman,  on  the  other  hand,  resembles  a 
practitioner  who  is  always  trying  to  get  the  utmost  possible 
result  from  his  apparatus.  He  is  careful  not  to  alter  the  posi- 
tion nor  the  motors.  To  do  so  he  knows  would  necessitate  a 
suspension  of  the  working,  and  both  time  and  the  interest  of 
a  certain  capital  would  be  wasted.  He  also  knows  that  any 
check  on  the  action,  resulting  from  an  improvised  adaptation, 
would  mean  less  production  during  a  certain  period.  If  he 
decides  to  adopt  some  modification  he  carries  it  out,  or  allows 
it  to  be  carried  out,  by  slipping  the  straps  of  the  old  wheel 
on  to  the  new  wheels,  without  stopping  the  movement  or 
interrupting  the  production. 


CHAPTER  11 


THE     PARTY     MAN 


I. — The  Choice  of  an  Opinion  and  the  Liberty  of  Indifference. 

I  HAVE  pointed  out  elsewhere  that  the  English  have  a  predi- 
lection for  contention  and  movement  ;  they  like  to  act  for  the 
sake  of  action,  even  independently  of  results.  It  is  a  kind  of 
idealism  peculiar  to  themselves ;  and  seems  to  denote  the 
practical  turn  of  their  mind.  The  two  things  are  so  indis- 
solubly  blended  in  the  English  character  that  casual  observers 
confuse  the  one  with  the  other  ;  but  in  reality  they  are  entirely 
different.  In  order  thoroughly  to  comprehend  the  English 
character  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  them,  and  to  appreciate 
at  its  proper  value  this  disinterested  belief  in  action,  this  poetry 
of  the  will,  insistent  though  half  disguised  by  the  many  efforts 
calculated  with  a  view  to  a  practical  termination. 

Another  and  equally  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the 
English  is  their  inability  to  generalise  broadly  and  logically  ; 
they  quickly  grow  weary  of  the  pursuit  of  abstractions  and 
experience  great  relief  in  halting  half  way  on  the  steep  slope, 
at  a  point  where  we  should  find  it  infinitely  more  difficult  to 
stop  than  to  slide  to  the  bottom.  This  idealism  on  the  one 
hand,  and  incapacity  on  the  other,  through  the  medium  of 
their  indirect  consequences,  have  exercised  a  remarkable 
influence  on  the  organisation  and  maintenance  of  the  great 
parties  into  which  England  is  divided. 

How  does  man  select  the  ideas  which  shall  direct  the  course 

141 


142  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

of  his  activity  ?     Here,  again,  we  find  a  preponderance  of  the 
same  dominating  force.     The  choice  is  made  in  the  presence, 
and,  as  it  were,  under  the  eyes  of  an  impatient  third  party  :  the 
desire  for  action,  always  anxious  for  a  field  for  expansion.    The 
weight  of  arguments  or  flawless  evidence  are  not   in  them- 
selves sufficient  to  decide  him  ;  he  does  not  allow  them  the 
opportunity  of  operating  freely  and  at  leisure.     Certainly  they 
weigh  in  his  final  determination,  but  on  the  condition  that  the 
examination  does  not  demand  too  much  study  and  time,  nor 
entail  overmuch  hesitation  in  arriving  at  action.     The  intelli- 
gence of  the  Englishman  is  too  slow  to  allow  of  the  delay  of 
a  prolonged  deliberation.     He  is  too  much  in   haste  to  deter- 
mine the  direction  of  his  will,  so  that  its  course  may  be  the 
sooner  commenced,  and  therefore  he  curtails  the  preliminaries. 
The  marvels   of  logical    deduction    which   we   meet   among 
English  publicists  are  no  contradiction  of  this  theory.     In  fact 
they  usually  assume  the  form  of  a  laborious  confirmation  of  an 
adopted  thesis,  rather  than  a  prolonged  search  for  a  truth  which 
but  slowly  obtains  the  acquiescence  of  the  mind.     It  is  the 
condensed  logic  of  the  apologist,  rather  than  the  facile  inves- 
tigation of  the  thinker.     In  short,  let  us  say  at  once  that  the 
choice  or  a  political  creed  in  England  is,  as  a  rule,  hasty,  super- 
ficial, and   in  a  certain  sense  fantastic.     There  is  always  an 
inner  voice  which   urges  that  the  important  thing  is  not  to 
select  the  best  cause,  but  having  selected  one,  whatever  it  may 
be — provided  it  be  plausible — to  adhere   to  it   tenaciously  and 
at  all  costs.     The  paucity  of  general  ideas  and  the  suspicion 
which  absolute  propositions  excite  in  England,  help  to  make 
the  choice  of  opinions  to  a  large  extent  arbitrary.     Absolute 
propositions  alone    can  have  absolute  contradictions,  between 
which  and  themselves  they  destroy  all  equilibrium,  throwing 
on  one  side  or  the  other  the  whole  weight  of  the  will  and  the 
mind.     Considerations  of  practical  utility  alone  retain  an  even 
balance,  comprehending  and   reconciling  to   a  certain   extent 
the  for  and  the  against  ;  thus  too  often  the  mind   is  left  in  g, 


THE  PARTY  MAN  143 

sort  of  liberty  of  indifference,  and  then  it  is  that  the  choice 
between  opinions  of  almost  equal  possibilities  is  left  to  circum- 
stance and  self-interest.  Absolute  propositions  might  be 
compared  to  a  peak  the  sides  of  which  are  precipitous  slopes  ; 
each  drop  of  water  which  falls  down  them  must  hurry  direct 
to  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  Considerations  of  practical 
utility,  on  the  other  hand,  resemble  a  lightly  undulating 
plateau,  where  the  line  of  division  wavers  between  the  two 
sides  of  the  gentle  declivity  ;  local  accident  alone  determines 
down   which  of  the  two  each  streamlet  shall  flow. 

To  sum  up,  the  political  convictions  of  Englishmen  are 
neither  so  deep,  deliberate,  nor  imperative  as  those  of  other 
nations,  and  the  reasons  which  determine  them  are  not  of  the 
most  elevated  character.  Rapidly  conceived,  arbitrarily 
chosen,  they  are  none  the  less  tenacious  and  permanent, 
because  the  same  need  and  impatience  for  action  which  cuts 
short  the  deliberation  during  which  they  are  evolved  resists 
any  interruption  of  the  action  for  the  purpose  of  further 
study.  This  tenacity  has  its  origin  in  a  consideration  of 
practical  utility,  rather  than  in  the  force  of  intellectual  com- 
pliance. 

2. — The  "  Pressure  from  without "  and  the  "  Concessionary 
Principle." 

Let  us  apply  the  foregoing  considerations  to  the  statesman. 
All  his  thoughts  and  actions  proceed,  as  we  shall  see,  from 
this  abstract  psychology  ;  they  confirm  and  verify  it. 

In  the  first  place,  his  chief  care  is  to  be  always  upon  the 
parliamentary  tapis,  by  means  of  any  bills  which  happen  to 
interest  the  public.  The  leaders  of  the  party  in  power  know 
that  there  is  at  least  one  thing  the  people  will  not  tolerate, 
viz.,  an  appearance  of  inactivity  or  impotence.  Even  if  they 
have  but  few  matured  or  practical  ideas  they  nevertheless 
draw  up  a  programme  crowded  with  measures  relating  to  both 


144  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

foreign  and  home  policy  ;  and  they  take  a  pride  in  carrying 
it  out  in  its  entirety.  The  Duke  of  Richmond,  wishing  to 
justify  the  small  eclat  of  a  session  during  which  the  Cabinet 
had  been  composed  of  himself  and  his  friends,  exclaimed, 
"  After  all,  we  have  passed  as  many  Bills  as  our  predecessors." 
Thus  he  gloried  in  the  production  for  the  sake  of  the  pro- 
duction, apart  from  the  importance  of  its  results,  the  expen- 
diture of  brute  force  apart  from  useful  effect. 

Another    source    of    impulsion,    the    efficacy    of  which    is 
deepened   by  the  indifference   of    this   political   scepticism,   is 
the  activity  displayed  by  agitators  outside  Parliament  in  favour 
of  such   and   such    a    measure,  and    the    noise  it   makes,   the 
emotion  it    excites   among  the    populace.     Nothing  is  more 
remarkable  than  the   kind  of  fatalism  with  which   the  British 
statesmen  witness  these  demonstrations,  watching  them  grow 
and  preparing  to    give  way  to  them.     This   is   because  they 
have  no  abstract  principles  which  might  be  for  them  the  object 
of  a  personal  faith,  and  give  them  the  strength  to  say  "  No," 
resolutely  and   indefinitely.     It  is   also  because  a  courageous 
and  tenacious  will,  to  whatever  end  it  may  be  directed,  exer- 
cises in   England  the   influence  we  only  accord  in   France  to 
right    and   justice   valued    for    their   own   sake.     Whoever  in 
England    desires  a   thing    obstinately  and   vehemently  is    on 
that  account  alone  presumed  to  have  right  on  his  side.     When 
men  who  have  the  responsibility  of  power  take  the  initiative, 
it  is  never  on  the  sole  impulse  of  a  personal   theoretical  con- 
viction ;    they   wait   until    some   doctrine   or  other  has  taken 
consistency  and  solidity  among  the  people  themselves,  and  a 
\pressure  from  without — this  is  the  phrase  hallowed  by  custom — 
joins    its   ardent   force  to  the   feeble    authority   of  principles. 
This  condition  fulfilled,  they  obey,  or  allow  it  to  be  under- 
stood they  will  obey.     Doubtless  the  resistance  of  the  Govern- 
ment to  certain   innovations  might  be  serious,  vehement,  and 
prolonged  ;  but  it  never  would  be  expressed  by  a  non  possurnus. 
On  the  contrary,  there  is  a  universal  consciousness  from  the 


THE  PARTY  MAN  I45 

very  beginning  that  they  have  made  up  their  minds  to  give  in 
some  day,  after  the  expedient  of  adjournments  is  exhausted  ; 
and  all  the  work  then  consists,  if  the  reform  is  deemed  dan- 
gerous, in  contriving  a  method  of  amending  the  law,  or  inter- 
preting its  clauses  in  such  a  way  as  to  limit  the  anticipated 
evil.  In  France,  our  statesmen  have  never  felt,  or  at  least  have 
never  displayed,  this  somewhat  servile  deference  to  the  mere 
wishes  of  the  populace,  apart  from  the  rights  of  which  they 
may  be  the  expression,  and  to  the  partial  and  irregular  mani- 
festations by  which  the  populace  tentatively  make  their  wishes 
known  outside  the  official  channels  provided  by  the  consti- 
tution. In  England  the  "concessionary  principle"  (Disraeli's 
phrase)  has  inspired  the  politics  of  each  party  in  power 
successively.  There  is,  practically,  a  tacit  compact  between 
the  Government  and  the  men  who  organise  the  pressure  from 
without.  Provided  the  latter  succeed  in  maintaining  and 
strengthening  this  pressure  for  a  more  or  less  lengthened 
period,  it  is  understood  that  satisfaction  will  eventually  be 
granted  to  them  ;  and  so  agitation  has  become  a  regular 
institution  in  England,  with  an  organised  system,  recognised 
rights,  and  an  assured  success.  Perhaps  it  would  have  seemed 
puerile  to  us  to  hear  the  papers,  in  1867,  enumerate  and  cast 
up  the  sums  subscribed  for  or  against  an  amendment  of  the 
electoral  law,  calculate  the  number  of  those  present  at  the 
meetings  of  the  respective  parties,  and  dispute  the  length  of 
the  processions  formed  by  the  petitioners.  But  these  futile 
debates  were  only  the  outward  expression  of  a  desire  to  establish 
an  unassailable  argument,  of  the  self-assertion  of  a  powerful 
and  active  will,  which  was  gradually  mastering  the  whole 
country. 

3. — Division   of  the   Aristocracy. 

Another  striking  characteristic  of  the  English  political 
world  is  the  perfect  ease  and  nonchalant  audacity  with  which 
one  half  of   the  upper   class  separates  itself  from  the    other, 

L 


146  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

enters  the  camp  of  the  Radicals,  converts  their  principles  to  its 
own  use,  and  commences  a  half-hearted  attack  upon  its  own 
privileges,  without  renouncing  any  of  the  customs,  feelings 
and  relations  by  which  the  unity  of  the  caste  are  preserved. 
It  is  like  a  tacit  understanding  by  which,  while  some  of  the 
garrison  continue  to  hold  out,  others  feign  disloyalty,  mingle 
with  the  assailants,  ardently  espouse  their  cause,  and  yet,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  ruin  and  sack  of  the  town,  a  catastrophe 
for  all  concerned,  endeavour  to  gradually  turn  the  siege  into  a 
blockade,  delaying  the  attacks,  sparing  the  citadel  as  long  as 
possible,  and  delaying,  and  finally  humanising  the  inevitable 
victory.  One  day,  in  my  presence,  a  noble  lord  of  the  Whig 
party  compared  Parliament  to  a  traveller  in  a  sledge,  pursued 
by  a  band  of  famished  wolves.  From  time  to  time  he  throws 
them  quarters  of  venison  to  distract  their  attention  and  keep 
them  back,  so  that,  half  satiated,  they  may  be  less  ferocious 
when  they  gain  the  horse's  head.  Of  course  it  is  necessary  to 
husband  the  venison,  and  make  it  last  as  long  as  possible  by 
cutting  it  up  into  little  pieces.  Part  of  our  nobility,  he  said, 
meritoriously  devote  themselves  to  this  ungrateful  task. 
Although  this  statement  may  be  an  exaggeration,  there  is 
truth  in  it,  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  admire  in  this  role^ 
which  is  accepted  and  filled  by  the  Liberal  fraction  of  the 
English  aristocracy,  on  the  one  hand  the  decision,  constancy 
and  simplicity  which  they  bring  to  it,  and  on  the  other,  its 
leaven  of  political  scepticism,  elasticity  of  ideas,  and,  in  a  word, 
the  option  of  indifference  between  two  contrary  doctrines. 

The  feeling  which  animates  the  ruling  classes  in  England 
is  tinged  with  the  bold,  almost  reckless,  optimism  of  which  I 
have  already  made  mention.  They  are  convinced  that  a 
strong  will  can  coerce  both  man  and  things,  that  there  is  no 
difficulty  it  cannot  surmount,  no  situation  so  unfortunate  it 
cannot  extract  some  good  from  it,  no  mischievous  institution 
the  influence  of  which  it  cannot  correct,  and  that  nothing 
need  be  despaired  of  nor  compromised  with  whilst  the  will  still 


THE  PARTY  MAN  147 

holds  its  own.  The  Conservative  party,  believing  itself  to  be 
endowed  with  this  powerful  corrective,  this  remedy  for  every 
ill,  naturally  regards  the  measures  which  the  Radical  party 
force  upon  it  from  an  entirely  different  standpoint  to  that  of 
our  reactionaries.  It  may  disapprove  of  the  measures  ;  when 
they  triumph  it  is  not  discouraged  ;  it  never  regards  them  as 
containing  the  ineluctable  essence  of  dissolution  and  death  ; 
and  it  does  not  believe  that  they  are  destined  to  destroy  every- 
thing unless  it  prevents  them  by  repeal.  In  its  opinion  an 
Act  of  Parliament,  a  paper  with  black,  marks,  cannot  possess  so 
much  virtue  that  human  energy  cannot  out-do  it.  Thus  it 
comes  about  that  England  has  never  known  those  laws  ot 
reaction  which  have  so  uselessly  disfigured  and  dishonoured 
our  Parliamentary  history.  The  Conservative  party  has  always 
refused  to  look  back  or  to  retrace  its  steps  along  a  road  it  has 
already  travelled  over.  It  settles  down  each  time  in  the 
situation  that  the  last  reforms  accomplished  have  made  for  it  ; 
because  its  abstract  convictions  to  the  contrary  have  not 
sufficient  distinctness  and  intolerant  vigour  to  enable  it  to 
regard  these  reforms  as  absolutely  preposterous  and  detestable; 
and  also  because  its  confidence  in  the  empire  of  the  discreet 
and  persevering  will  prevents  it  from  believing  that  all  will  be 
lost  if  they  continue  in  force.  It  takes  the  helm  and  hoists 
the  sail  in  order  to  tack  about,  and  thus  the  less  swiftly  be 
carried  along  by  the  current ;  it  never  takes  an  oar  and  tries 
to  go  back.  We  should  form  a  false  idea  of  the  political 
history  of  England  if  we  did  not  take  into  consideration  this 
curious  psychological  combination  m  which  optimism  and  scep>- 
ticism  are  blended  with  a  relative  indifference  in  regard  to 
principles  and  an  ardent  faith  in  the  resources  of  human  energy. 

4. — Electoral  Reforms  and  the  Representation  of  the 
Minorities. 

Let  us  no  longer  ask  what  is  the  general  impulse  by  which 
rulers  are  swayed,  but  what  determines  the  direction  in  which 


148  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

they  are  impelled  by  opinion.  We  can  find  no  clearer  nor 
more  significant  illustration  of  this  subject  than  the  history  of 
electoral  reforms.  In  all  the  discussions  to  which  this  question 
has  given  rise,  both  in  Parliament  and  outside  it,  before  and 
after  1832,  the  natural  rights  of  man,  which  in  France  are  the 
basis  of  such  debates,  are  alluded  to  merely  by  chance.  In 
1867  we  get  the  valuable  evidence  of  the  Honourable  George 
Brodrick,  who  set  at  defiance  the  adversaiies  of  the  proposed 
extension  by  pointing  out  that  one  publicist  alone  had 
presented  the  franchise  as  a  natural  right  of  the  citizen.  It  is 
at  least  the  invariable  rule  that  neither  Conservatives  nor 
Liberals,  nor  even  many  Radicals,  consent  to  admit  as  a 
substantial  political  element  the  individual  regarded  in  the 
inanity  of  his  general  conception.  It  seems  to  them  an 
abstraction  pushed  too  far,  void  of  all  substance  and  so 
trifling  that  they  are  not  conscious  of  holding  anything  when 
such  rarified  matter  is  all  they  have  in  their  hands.  Certainly 
they  do  not  forego  all  exercise  of  the  faculty  of  abstraction, 
but  thev  instinctively  stop  half  way  through  the  operation,  on 
arriving  at  a  point  where  concrete  reality  still  holds  the  chief 
place.  They  do  not  go  beyond  the  idea  of  classes,  particular 
corporations,  and  towns,  which  are  merely  assemblages  of 
certain  persons,  or  of  certain  districts  which  can  be  considered 
one  by  one.  The  discussions  which  have  been  held  since  1854 
on  proportional  representation  are  in  this  connection  very 
instructive.  One  of  the  objections  continually  raised  against 
the  clause  of  minorities,  which  was  eventually  included  in  the 
Act  of  1867,  was  that  the  House  represents  not  individuals 
but  representative  bodies.^  As  Gladstone  said,  the  principle  of 
Parliamentary  representation  is,  that  each  assembly  of  electors 
must  be  considered  as  forming  an  entity  in  itself,  a  moral 
personality.  What  is  wanted  in  the  House  is  to  know  the 
ruling  opinion  of  each  community.  He  further  declared  that 
the  clause  meant  the  substitution  of  the  representation  of 
Mr.  Hardcastlc. 


THE  PARTY  MAN  149 

citizens  for  th:it  of  communities,  which  had  hitherto  been  the 
rule.  Another  member  added  that  if  of  the  three  seats 
assigned  to  Manchester  one  was  in  the  minority,  two  of  the 
three  members  neutraHsed  each  other's  suffrage,  with  the  result 
that  this  great  community  had  practically  only  one  voice  in 
Parliament.  The  desire  was  to  augment  the  influence  of  the 
great  towns,  but  it  was  done  in  such  a  way  that  the  metropolis 
of  Lancashire  did  not  weigh  heavier  in  the  scale  of  Parlia- 
mentary votes  than  Arundel,  and  if  the  clause  of  minorities 
were  allowed  to  stand  it  would  weigh  even  less.  In  these 
remarks  the  inability  and  disinclination  of  the  English  mind 
to  pursue  abstractions  to  the  end  is  clearly  evident,  as  is  also 
the  ease  with  which  it  will  stop  and  attach  itself  to  those 
intermediary  divisions  where  the  particular  is  seen  and  felt  in 
the  very  midst  of  an  average  generality.  The  other  con- 
siderations which,  in  1832  and  1884,  were  introduced  into  the 
discussion  on  electoral  reform  are  equally  alien  to  the  law  of 
abstraction  ;  they  are  entirely  practical.  An  attentive  analysis 
shows  them  to  be  two  in  number,  and  common  to  reformers 
and  their  opponents:  (i)  What  is  the  surest  means  of 
forming  a  good  government,  a  government  equal  to  its 
responsibilities?  (2)  What  is  the  surest  means  of  main- 
taining an  educative  political  activity  among  the  popular 
masses  ?  Reformers,  in  order  to  democratise  the  franchise, 
cite  the  force  that  a  more  extended  representation  would  give 
the  Government,  the  presumable  sagacity  of  the  classes  for 
which  it  is  desired  to  obtain  the  right  of  suffrage,  and  the 
public  interests  which  would  be  furthered  by  such  participation 
in  the  constitution  of  authority.  Others  set  against  these 
advantages  the  danger  of  submerging  the  enlightened  classes 
in  the  flood  of  the  unenlightened,  of  placing  the  Government 
at  the  mercy  of  the  prejudices  and  passions  of  the  ignorant 
and  partial  masses,  and  of  exposing  the  masses  themselves  to 
the  deplorable  suggestions  of  the  omnipotent  power.  Neither 
the  reformers  nor  their  opponents  ever  dream  of  aspiring  to  an 


150  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

ideal  proportionality  in  the  prerogative  of  the  franchise  and 
the  division  of  electoral  power,  or  even  of  seeking  the  least 
imperfect  approximations  to  these  ends.  We  have  seen  that 
of  proportional  representation,  which  is  a  principle,  in  1867 
only  the  representation  of  the  minorities,  which  is  an 
expedient,  was  still  in  existence.  It  had  been  retained  in  the 
form  of  a  strictly  limited  exception,  applicable  to  only  a  few 
assemblies  of  electors  ;  and  it  was  from  contempt,  indolence, 
and  a  desire  to  finish  with  the  Bill,  that  the  great  majority  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  Disraeli  and  his  Government,  Glad- 
stone and  the  bulk  of  the  Opposition,  all  equally  hostile  to  the 
clause,  resigned  themselves  to  allowing  this  fantasy  of  Lord 
Cairns  to  pass,  ratified  by  a  vote  of  emergency  in  the  House 
of  Lords.  The  clause  has  disappeared  ;  it  was  dropped 
directly  the  electoral  law  was  again  taken  up. 

In  reality,  the  dislike  it  inspired  was  chiefly  owing  to  its 
pretension  to  diminish  the  excitement  and  heat  of  political 
struggles.  The  English  would  prefer  it  to  render  them  more 
ardent.  And  here  we  touch  on  the  second  consideration  that 
I  have  pointed  out.  The  answer  over  and  over  again  has  been, 
echoing  Cobden's  saying,  that  the  minority  has  only  one  right, 
viz.,  to  use  every  effort  to  become  in  its  turn  the  majority  ;  and 
it  is  not  good  for  it  to  be  spared  these  efforts.  To  assure  for  it 
in  every  place  a  representation  proportionate  to  the  number  of 
its  adherents  would  be  to  take  away  from  it  the-source  of  its 
energy  and  passion,  its  eagerness  to  persuade,  to  dominate,  or 
to  escape  from  the  domination  of  others  ;  it  would  become 
accustomed  to  reap,  without  any  output  of  energy,  the  fruits 
of  the  law,  and  we  should  soon  witness  the  disappearance  of 
the  "  healthy  activity "  which  the  elections  maintain  in  all 
parts  of  the  country  when  the  local  majority  in  each  place 
alone  profits  by  them.  The  consequences  of  such  a 
generalised  system  would  be  a  growing  languor  in  political 
life,  a  stoppage  of  the  national  will.  In  Parliament  itself  a 
stagnant  representation,  or  one  with  little  fleeting,  flickering 


THE  PARTY  MAN  151 

waves,  would  replace  the  powerful  current,  the  impetus  of 
which  sustains  and  urges  forward  the  statesmen,  and  renders 
them  capable  of  a  broad  and  steadfast  policy.  We  can  see  the 
general  tone  of  the  reasoning  by  which  the  English  mind  is 
swayed.  The  idea  of  equity  has  no  part  in  it.  Moral  effects 
alone  are  regarded.  These  optimists  believe  that  liberty  is 
sufficient  to  assure  the  supremacy  of  the  best.  Certainly  it  is 
not  contempt  of  minorities  which  transpires  in  the  arguments 
I  have  repeated  :  in  no  country  is  more  attention  paid  to  their 
proceedings  and  their  progress.  But  much  less  consideration 
is  devoted  to  their  abstract  rights  than  to  the  means  of  keeping 
them  active,  deliberate  and  progressive.  They  do  not  receive 
their  due  in  order  that  they  may  strive  to  claim  and  take  it. 
We  recognise  here  again  the  twofold  character  of  indifference 
to  rational  principles,  and  of  confident  and  passionate  interest 
attaching  to  the  energetic  exercise  of  the  human  will. 


CHAPTER   III 


THE    STATESMAN 


I. —  The  Division  of  Men  into  Parties. 

I  HAVE  shown  in  a  previous  work  the  fortunate  conjunction 
of  historical  circumstances  which  assisted  the  development  of 
the  system  of  parties  into  its  present  form.^  But  for  the 
oligarchal  organisation  of  society  which  prevailed  at  the  end 
of  the  eighteenth  century  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  the 
parties  in  the  State  to  have  been  reduced  to  two  and  main- 
tained at  that  number ;  to  have  taken  consistency  and  become 
accustomed  to  discipline  under  a  chief ;  and  difficult,  too, 
would  it  have  been  to  consummate  the  formation  of  two 
compact  groups  of  statesmen  whose  uninterrupted  alternation 
in  power  has  become  an  established  fact,  a  rule  accepted  and 
observed.  But  the  historical  circumstances  were  seconded  by 
causes  even  more  profound — I  mean  the  peculiar  qualities 
and  defects  of  the  national  character.  Here,  again,  we  find  the 
impatient  need  to  exercise  force,  and  lack  of  inclination  and 
ability  to  generalise,  or  to  be  guided  by  those  generalisations 
which  originally  determined  the  method  of  accepting  certain 
reasons  for  acting  in  concert,  viz.,  hy  a  properly  constituted 
party  with  leaders  at  its  head.  None  the  less  has  it  a  subtle 
secret  psychology  which  must  be  separated,  analysed  and 
pursued  to  its  final  consequences. 

'  See  in  Lc  Dcveloppcment  <lc  la  Constitution  ct  dc  la  Socictc  politique  en 
Anglclcur,  the  chapter  eiitilled,  "  OU.ULiichie  et  le  regime  parlementairc." 

15-! 


THE   STATESMAN  153 

The  whole  organisation  and  liistory  of  the  two  political 
parties  bears  the  imprint  of  the  character  I  have  just  defined. 
There  are  few,  if  any,  neutrals  in  England.  Every  man  is 
enrolled  in  some  party,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  thus  finds 
himself  provided  with  a  ready-made  sphere  of  activity.  In 
the  choice  of  a  party  he  is  singularly  free  from  hindrances  in 
following  cither  the  traditions  of  his  family,  the  antecedents 
of  his  local  following,  or  the  interests  of  his  career.  In 
England  there  are  assemblies  of  electors  which  arc  Liberal 
or  Conservative,  simply  because  they  began  with  a  certain 
political  creed,  and,  in  the  case  of  the  immense  majority,  the 
general  reasons  for  changing  it  have  never  been  sufficiently 
defined  nor  strong  enough  to  rob  them  of  the  creditable  desire 
to  remain  faithful  to  their  past.  When  young  Coningsby,  the 
hero  of  one  of  Disraeli's  novels,  took  it  into  his  head  to  form  a 
deliberate  conviction,  his  grandfather  cried  :  "  You  go  with 
your  family,  sir,  like  a  gentleman  ;  you  are  not  to  consider 
your  opinions,  like  a  philosopher  01  a  political  adventurer," 

In  substance,  therefore,  the  parties,  rather  than  resembling 
two  groups  of  believers  endeavouring  to  propagate  a  doctrine, 
are  like  two  groups  of  combatants  contesting  a  field  of  action, 
who  inscribe  a  device  on  their  standard  by  which  they  may  be 
identified.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  both  Pitt  and  Fox 
hesitated  for  some  time  at  the  outset  of  their  careers,  and 
finally  joined  a  party  which  they  afterwards  forsook. 
Evidently  the  differences  in  political  credos  were  insignifi- 
cant in  their  eyes.  The  one  important  thing  was  to  open  a 
career  for  their  young  abilities  which  they  were  eager  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  exercising  and  putting  to  the  test  ;  they 
both  esteemed  power  to  render  service  to  their  country  as 
much  under  the  banner  of  the  Tory  as  that  of  the  Whig. 

Between  the  Whigs  and  the  Tories  a  complete  exchange  of 
doctrines  was  effected  in  tiie  course  of  a  century  without  a 
similar  exchange  of  names.  Lord  Mahon  pointed  out  the 
significant   fact   that   the   opinions   of  a   Tory   in    17QO   were 


154  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

exactly  the  same  as  those  of  a  Whig  in  1890,  and  vice  vend — • 
proof  positive  that  these  opinions  do  not  of  necessity  enter 
into  the  definition  of  the  two  terms.^  Must  I  recall  how  Sir 
Robert  Peel  on  two  occasions  presented  to  Parliament,  and 
supported  with  the  whole  weight  of  his  authority  as  leader  of  a 
party,  the  important  measures  which  that  party  and  he  had 
spent  years  in  contesting  and  denouncing  :  the  emancipation 
of  the  Catholics  and  the  abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws  ?  At  the 
time  when  the  latter  of  these  measures  was  passed,  Lord 
Wellington  expressed  the  opinion  that  if  the  House  of  Lords 
represents  conservatism  in  the  Constitution,  this  conservatism 
ought  to  be  subordinated  to  the  interests  of  the  public  and  the 
"  march  of  affairs."  The  obligation  the  two  Houses  are  under 
"  to  insure  that  the  Queen's  Government  will  be  carried  on  " 
was  in  the  eyes  of  this  statesman  an  interest  excelling  all 
others  ;  thus  he  ranked  a  practical  result,  the  efficiency  of  the 
Government,  far  above  fidelity  to  the  principles  of  the  party  of 
which  he  was  the  leader.  In  more  recent  times  the  Con- 
servatives have  been  known  to  borrow  the  measures  of  the 
advanced  Liberals  without  any  embarrassment.  The  Derby- 
Disraeli  ministry  imitated  the  great  electoral  reform  of  1867, 
which  far  exceeded  anything  the  Radical  Bright  himself  had 
ever  demanded.  It  was  at  this  juncture  Lord  Derby  said  he 
did  not  intend  to  allow  the  Liberals  to  have  the  monopoly  of 
Reform  measures  ;  the  Tories  must  have  their  share  in  them. 

But  it  was  chiefly  in  1885  that  the  Tory  party,  like  the 
Liberal  party,  allowed  its  supreme  and  cynical  indifference  to 
all  the  principles  on  which  the  unity  of  a  party  can  be  built  up 
to  appear.  In  1885  Parnell  disposed  of  Ireland  ;  after  the 
elections  he  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  compact  following 
of  eighty-six  members,  a  very  obvious  interest  would  therefore 

'  Lecky  has  disputed  Lord  Mahon's  assertion  ;  he  certainly  liad  yielded 
more  or  less  to  the  fascination  of  paradox,  but,  t^rantinj*  all  the  amend- 
ments, the  assertion  remains  exact  in  substance,  at  least  in  the  proportion 
necessary  to  justify  our  statement. 


THE   STATESMAN  155 

be  served  in  gaining  him  over.  Without  hesitation  or  em- 
barrassment tlie  Tory  party  renounced  all  its  traditions  ;  the 
special  legislation  for  the  repression  of  crime  was  not  renewed 
in  Ireland.  Negotiations  cloaked  in  mystery  were  opened 
with  Parnell.  The  hope  that  they  would  obtain  more  from 
the  Tories  than  the  Liberals  was  carefully  fanned  among  the 
Irish  members.^  The  suspicion  cast  on  the  administration  of 
the  former  viceroy  of  Ireland,  Lord  Spencer,  was  said  to  be 
well  founded,  and  a  wrongful  pretence  was  made  of  consenting 
to  the  re-examination  of  the  acts  of  this  statesman.  As  Mr. 
Chamberlain  said,  the  Tories  might  form  the  ministry,  but  the 
Radicals  were  in  power.  However,  Gladstone  intended  that 
his  opponents  should  incur  all  the  responsibility  of  having 
allowed  the  Act  for  the  repression  of  crimes  to  expire  ;  he 
insinuated  that  he  would  have  preserved  certain  of  its  clauses, 
especially  those  for  the  punishment  of  boycotting.  He 
asserted  the  necessity  of  maintaining  in  the  code  of  laws  for 
Ireland  the  supremacy  of  the  Crown,  the  unity  of  the  empire, 
and  the  authority  of  Parliament,  which  is  the  one  effectual 
guarantee  of  the  latter.  On  these  conditions  only  could  an 
extended  local  self-government  be  granted.  Parnell  invited 
Gladstone  to  draw  up  a  scheme,  and  the  latter  haughtily 
refusing,  the  leader  of  the  Irish  party  in  the  next  elections  went 
over  with  all  his  forces  to  the  side  of  the  Tories. 

Immediately  after  the  elections  Lord  Salisbury,  like  the 
practical  man  he  was,  recognised  the  futility  of  continuing  an 
alliance  all  the  advantages  of  which  he  had  exhausted.  Even 
with  the  support  of  the  eighty-six  Irish  his  continuance  in  power 
would  not  be  secured.  He  therefore  deliberately  turned  against 
them  and  proclaimed  measures  of  repression  against  the  Irish 
National  League.  Gladstone,  in  his  turn,  ignoring  his  recent 
declarations,  opened  negotiations  with   Parnell,  and  threw  in 

'  Lord  Carnarvon,  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  made  them  understand 
that  if  necessary  he  would  go  as  far  as  Parnell.  At  least,  this  was  the 
uncontradicted  testimony  of  a  member  worthy  to  be  believed. 


156  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

his  lot  with  him.     The  Bill  he  presented  on   April  8,  1886, 
sanctioned  Home  Rule  in  another  guise.     It  was  thrown  out, 
and  on  this  occasion  the  late  Tory,  once  leader  of  the  Whigs, 
and  afterwards  of  the  Liberals,  employed  the  language  of  the 
Radical    and    the    demagogue.     He    blindly    appealed    to    the 
"masses"    against  the  enlightened  "classes,"  and  proclaimed 
with  a  mysticism  which  seemed  borrowed  from  Victor  Hugo, 
his  belief  in  the  unerring  nature  of  the  popular  instinct.     More 
and  more  he  inclined  towards  the  side  for  which  he  had  already 
a  penchant,  and  eventually  he  became  the  defender  and  surety 
of  the  National  League  he  had  once  inexorably  opposed.     On 
the  other  hand,  whilst  Lord  Salisbury,  again  in  power,  returned 
to  the  traditions  of  his   party  by  setting  in  motion  a  special 
system    of  prevention    and    repression    in    Ireland,    his    most 
influential  colleague,  Lord   Randolph  Churchill,  leader  of  the 
Tories  in  the  House  of  Commons,  indubitably  deviated  from 
the  lines  laid  down   by  the   Conservatives.     Without  laying 
himself  open   to  the   disavowal   of  his  chief,   he  took  up  the 
principal     measures    he     had    ardently    combated     when    the 
Liberals    were    in    the    Government    and    he    was    in     the 
Opposition  :  the  closure  to  the  simple  majority  ;  new  facilities 
granted  through  the  medium  of  the  local  authorities  for  making 
the  agricultural  labourers  proprietors  or  holders  of  lots  of  land 
(in  this  connection  the  orator  acknowledged  Mr.  Jesse  Collings 
and  Mr.  Chamberlain  as  the  initiators  of  this  reform,  the  self- 
same one  which  had  overthrown  the  Tory  Cabinet)  ;  the  sale 
of  glebe  lands  ;  a  re-modelling  of  the  tithes,  which  in  future 
were  to  be  paid  by  the  proprietors  ;  a  revision  of  the  railway 
tariff   (project    borrowed     from    the     Liberal     minister,     Mr. 
Mundella),  the  establishment  of  a  really  popular  form  of  local 
government  in  England,  and  an  analogous  reform  in  Ireland  ; 
and  the  development  of  popular  education  (there  is  nothing  to 
prevent   us  from  supposing  that  free  education  was  to  be  in- 
cluded among  the  projected  improvements).      Politics  is  not  a 
science  of  the  past,   added    the  orator,    but   a   science   of  the 


THE   STATESMAN  T57 

future  ;  it  does  not  consist  in  looking  behind,  but  makes  a 
business  of  progress. 

Is  a  last  trait  required,  the  most  striking  of  all  ? 

A  year  later  the  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  the  same  Con- 
servative Cabinet  initiated  a  motion,  two  clauses  of  u^hich 
dealt  with  the  suppression,  one  of  entails,  and  the  other  of  the 
right  of  primogeniture,  in  succession  to  landed  property 
ab  intestat.  Two  of  the  most  powerful  supports  of  the  landed 
aristocracy  shaken  by  those  whose  official  duty  it  was  to 
protect  them  !  What  could  be  more  unexpected  ?  The 
paradox  was  made  complete  by  the  ministerial  Act  concerning 
local  government,  which  removed  from  the  landed  proprietors 
their  administrative  powers  in  the  counties,  transferring  them 
to  an  elective  council  ;  and  thus  the  third  support  of  the 
oligarchy  of  land  tottered  and  fell.  The  Bill  was  an  effectual 
diversion;  it  threw  the  Irish  question  into  the  shade,  but  at 
what  cost  ?  The  divergence  of  doctrines  is  obviously  of  such 
secondary  importance  that  there  is  perhaps  no  single  measure, 
however  characteristic  and  extreme  it  may  be  in  a  certain 
sense,  of  which  it  can  be  confidently  asserted  that  it  will 
never  figure  in  the  programme  of  one  of  the  two  parties. 
Option  in  the  choice  of  opinions,  rarity  of  profound  conviction, 
the  obstinacy  of  the  wrestler  rather  than  the  stability  and 
tenacity  of  the  believer,  the  universal  empire  and  exterior 
permanence  of  the  parties,  the  inward  variability  of  their 
doctrines,  and  finally  the  reign  of  opportunism — ^expediency — 
unshackled  by  its  principles,  concealed  under  a  specious 
appearance  and  an  orderly  method  of  procedure  capable  of 
deceiving  the  superficial  observer  ;  these  are  the  facts  which  a 
careful  study  of  the  mechanism  of  the  will   reveal  to  us. 

2. — Androlatry. 

We  must  not  be  persuaded,  however,  that  the  English 
political  world  has  no  serious  object  in  view,  no  ideal  that  it 
contemplates  with  fervour.     But,  owing  to  the  lack  of  interest 


158  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

ill  general  ideas,  this  object,  this  ideal,  is  not  a  doctrine,  but  a 
man,  the  protagonist  and  hero.  The  English  nation  could 
more  readily  dispense  with  belief  in  an  abstraction  than  with 
belief  in  a  personality.  At  almost  every  epoch  in  its  existence 
it  has  been  possessed  by  the  image  of  some  citizen,  brave, 
assiduous,  energetic,  always  ready  to  step  into  the  breach,  a 
type  of  the  active  virtues  which  the  race  conceives  to  be  the 
highest  of  moral  perfections.  The  disproportionate  place 
which  biographies  hold  in  English  literature  testifies  to  this 
sort  of  political  anthropomorphism  :  the  preponderance  of  the 
individual  over  the  idea.  We  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  per- 
ceiving the  immense  import  of  its  consequences. 

In  every  form  of  government  there  are  three  essentials,  viz., 
that  the  supreme  power  should  be  undivided  in  spirit,  resolute 
in  action,  and  energetic  in  movement.  But  of  all  forms  of 
government,  that  by  a  Parliament  is  perhaps  the  least  capable 
of  fulfilling  these  conditions,  when  the  cohesion  of  political 
parties,  indispensable  mediums  of  this  particular  form  of 
government,  is  solely  maintained  by  community  of  doctrines. 
Doctrinal  convictions  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  self-opinionated 
and  unreasonable  ;  they  combine  the  literal  creed  of  their 
formulas  with  an  irritable  realisation  of  the  almost  imper- 
ceptible differences  which  distinguish  them.  Their  invariable 
tendency  is  to  cause  internal  division  in  each  party  in  such  a 
way  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  Government  to  be  anything 
but  the  feeble  result  of  a  compromise  or  the  fragile  result  of  a 
coalition.  Further,  each  of  the  divisions  thus  created  un- 
ceasingly puts  forward  its  theoretic  scruples  and  endeavours  to 
exact  conditions  in  such  a  way  that  the  Government  is 
frequently  driven  into  a  resolution  by  the  threat  of  secession, 
and  is  obliged  to  adopt  half-hearted  and  complex  measures, 
instead  of  the  free  and  simple  methods  which  are  the  con- 
ditions of  all  great  success,  f^inally,  devotion  to  a  doctrine  is 
as  intolerant  and  unreasonable  as  devotion  to  a  religion.  The 
members  of  a  party  among  whom  it  forms  the  sole  connecting 


THE   STATESMAN  159 

link  always  have  an  invincible  reluctance  to  suffer  their  leader 
to  compound  w^ith  events,  or  to  admit  that  he  can  learn  any- 
thing from  time  and  experience  ;  they  will  not  tolerate  in  him 
any  infidelity,  however  fleeting,  to  their  principles ;  if  he 
sincerely  modifies  his  opinions  they  immediately  disown  him  and 
refuse  to  follow  him  one  step  along  the  new  path  on  which  he 
has  set  out. 

The  preponderance  of  the  individual  over  the  doctrine  has 
safeguarded  England  against  any  troublesome  results  from  the 
Parliamentary  system.  It  is  one  of  the  miracles  of  political 
history  that  this  country  has  been  able  to  preserve,  in  a 
Government  at  the  mercy  of  parties,  the  singleness  of  outlook, 
certainty  in  action,  and  capability  of  evolution,  which  formed 
a  compensation  for  the  arbitrary  power  of  the  old  monarchic 
institution.  The  secret  of  this  miracle  is  to  be  found  in  the 
sort  of  fetichism  with  which  the  nation  regards  the  personalities 
of  her  great  men.  There  is  no  country  where  public  opinion 
places  on  a  higher  pinnacle  the  citizen  esteemed  worthiest  to 
govern,  invests  him  more  ostentatiously  with  omnipotent 
power,  or  more  urgently  bids  his  fellows  obey  him.  It  was  no 
Whig  or  Liberal  Parliament  that  the  nation  elected  in  1841, 
1857,  and  1880,  but  a  Peelite,  a  Palmerstonian  and  a  Glad- 
stonian  Parliament.  Each  of  these  elections  was  in  reality  a 
plebiscite  establishing  a  temporary  dictatorship  for  the  benefit 
of  one  man.  These  three  personages  were  real  Premiers, 
principeSy  ministerial  Caesars,  active  and  omnipotent,  by  the 
side  of  an  Augustan  dynasty  fallen  into  decay. 

Here,  indeed,  we  find  personal  unity  of  supreme  authority. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  unity  of  each  party  being  founded  on 
loyalty  to  an  individual  rather  than  on  attachment  to  a  doctrine, 
theoretical  divergences  are  powerless  to  divide  it  up,  a  glance 
or  an  imperious  word  from  the  leader  being  sufficient  to  recall 
the  dissentients  to  their  duty.^     It  is  remarkable  that  since  the 

'  One  day  Lord  Althorp,  findini^  liiinsclf  unable  to  refute  the  ari^uments 
of  the  Leader  of  tlie  Opposition,  frankly  confessed  to  his  followers  that,  at 


i6o  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

beginning  of  the  century,  except  after  1840  and  in  our  own 
times,  the  English  Parliament  has  never  known  a  third  party, 
not  even  little  groups  proceeding  from  the  disintegration  of  the 
two  great  parties,  Whig  and  Tory  ;  I  d  rot  count  the  Irish, 
who  must  be  considered  as  an  outside  faction.  We  cannot 
but  remember  the  fatal  influence  intermediary  factions  have 
exercised  in  our  Parliaments.  In  England  no  such  dissolvent 
exists,  doctrinal  divergences  are  obliterated  by  an  overwhelming 
sentiment  of  allegiance  to  the  Premier,  The  preponderance 
of  this  sentiment  was  made  manifest  in  recent  years  by  the 
extreme  perplexity  and  half-ashamed  attitude  of  the  Unionist 
party  at  the  moment  of  its  formation,  and  by  the  adherence  of 
the  immense  majority  of  the  Liberal  party  to  Gladstone  at  a 
time  when  a  question  was  raised  in  which  all  the  traditions  and 
instincts  of  the  country  were  arrayed  against  him,  and  any  one 
but  himself  would  have  been  in  the  lowest  minority. 

Finally,  and  for  the  same  reason,  every  English  statesman 
has  at  his  command  a  large  credit  of  inconsequence  and 
inconstancy,  on  the  sole  condition  that  his  alternations  of 
opinion  do  not  appear  to  spring  from  a  failure  of  will  power 
or  self-abandonment.  The  latter  is  the  only  fault  the  country 
will  not  tolerate  in  those  it  has  exalted  above  their  fellows.  No 
other  nation  has  shown  itself  more  indulffcnt  to  the  recantations 
of  its  political  men,  nor  followed  them  with  greater  docility,  once 
they  had  been  elected  leaders,  through  evolutions  which  to  us 
would  seem  extravagant.  Lord  Salisbury  and  Lord  Randolph 
Churchill  began  by  being  the  enfants  tcrrihles  of  their  parties, 
but  that  did  not  prevent  their  eventually  becoming  official  and 
esteemed  representatives.  The  public  lives  of  Sir  Robert  Peel, 
Disraeli  and  Gladstone  furnish  illustrations  of  the  lengths  to 

the  moment,  he  was  incompetent  to  reply,  but,  lie  added,  he  knew  he  had 
once  conceived  good  reasons  for  the  opposite  point  of  view,  which  would 
have  obtained  the  acquiescence  of  the  House  ;  he  asked  the  Liberal  party 
to  take  his  word  for  this,  and  to  base  their  decision,  not  so  much  on  the 
reasons  he  was  unable  to  produce,  as  on  a  blind  confidence  in  the  loyalty 
and  ability  of  their  leader.     This  appeal  was  understood. 


THE   STATESMAN  i6i 

which  this  extraordinary  tolerance  will  go,  and  of  the  kind  of 
optimistic  and  contented  androlatry  which  disposes  the  public  to 
take  in  good  part  anything  its  favourites  may  do.  The  career 
of  Mr.  Chamberlain  provides  us  with  a  recent  and  striking 
example  of  the  immovable  fidelity  of  once  formed  public 
opinion  to  a  man  who  is  himself  unfaithful  to  his  principles. 
Mr.  Chamberlain  began  by  counselling  the  abandonment  of 
Egypt,  finally  he  recommended  its  unlimited  occupation  ;  he 
began  by  opposing  all  colonial  expansion,  finally  he  declared 
that  the  possessions  over-seas  formed  the  principal  and  most 
enduring  element  of  the  national  grandeur ;  he  began  by 
championing  a  system  of  Home  Rule  for  Ireland,  finally  he 
became  its  most  outspoken  opponent;  in  1881  and  1884.  he 
was  a  member  of  the  Cabinet  which  signed  the  two  treaties 
assuring  the  independence  of  the  Transvaal  :  some  years  later 
he  was  associated  with  the  Jameson  Raid  and  openly  opposed, 
in  the  course  of  long  and  treacherous  negotiations,  the  autonomy 
of  the  South  African  Republic.  Not  one  of  these  alternations, 
to  all  appearance  scandalous,  has  been  able  to  impair  his 
popularity,  and  this  because  the  man  himself  remains 
unchanged  ;  his  speeches  are  as  cutting,  his  criticisms  as 
sarcastic,  his  apostrophes  as  insolent  as  ever  :  he  is  still  as 
addicted  to  parliamentary  irregularities  and  diplomatic  incon- 
gruities, as  self-willed  in  the  reverses  which  fortune  thrusts  upon 
him,  and  as  convinced  that  the  end  justifies  the  means.  With 
equal  enthusiasm  he  has  embraced  restricted  Radicalism  and 
extravagant  Imperialism  :  the  two  manifestations  of  contem- 
porary democracy.  It  is  this  identity  of  the  man  with  himself, 
this  perpetuity  of  tenacity  and  force,  even  when  applied 
to  objects  unworthy  in  themselves,  which  are  the  cause  of  his 
extraordinary  influence  and  inexplicable  good  fortune. 

Whoever  measures  in  thought  the  facilities  which  this  turn 
of  mind  secures  to  a  Parliamentary  government  is  tempted  to 
ask  himself  if  it  is  not  a  condition,  not  only  favourable  but 
essential  and   necessarv,  ami  if  the  deformations  of  type  which 


i62  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

this  system  of  government  has  sustained  in  other  countries,  or 
the  hindrances  it  has  encountered  there,  are  not  simply  due  to  the 
fact  that  this  solid  sentimental  basis  is  lacking  to  the  liberty  and 
authority  of  the  supreme  power.  England  is  assuredly  a 
country  of  good  sense  and  practical  mind.  But  to  assure  the 
discipline  of  the  various  parties  it  is  not  enough  to  oppose 
practical  sense  and  experience  to  the  pretensions  and  arrogance 
of  doctrinal  convictions.  Practical  sense  demands  too  sustained 
an  effort  on  the  part  of  the  attention  and  the  will,  conse- 
quently its  action  is  too  interrupted  ;  and  it  is  too  liable  to  be 
undermined  and  combated  by  sophistry  to  furnish  a  durable 
foundation  for  a  political  institution.  No  lasting  organisation 
can  be  established  on  a  mere  sentiment,  or  a  moral  force,  the 
operation  of  which  is  unconscious  and  mechanical.  This  it  is 
which  gives  its  immense  value  to  what  I  call  the  political 
androlatry  of  the  English,  the  idealism  of  a  personal  object 
which  is  like  an  ethnical  tendency,  a  blind  and  deep-rooted 
instinct  of  the  race. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    LAW    AND    PUBLIC    OPINION 

We  should  be  greatly  deceived  if  we  supposed  that  the  word 
"  law  "  finds  an  exact  equivalent  in  the  French  "  loiT  The 
French  word  has  a  more  restricted,  a  more  definite  sense. 
When  we  speak  of  a  law  we  mean  an  imperative  rule,  every 
word  of  which  has  been  weighed  ;  a  rule  that  has  been 
promulgated  on  a  certain  date,  and  is  the  fruit  of  the 
deliberation  of  the  authority  which  we  believe  to  be  the  most 
capable  of  drawing  up  reasonable  rules  ;  it  embodies  the  deliberate 
will  ofthisauthority.  The  word  "  law  "  certainly  has  this  signifi- 
cation, but  in  common  with  many  others.  Besides  the  Parlia- 
mentary law  which  answers  to  our  /?/,  it  embraces  the  common 
law,  made  up  of  customs  and  precedents,  the  judge-made  law, 
made  up  of  jurisprudence,  and  the  subject-made  law,  made 
up  of  resolutions  voted  among  themselves  by  the  subjects  of  the 
Oueen,  relating  chiefly  to  commercial  matters.  All  this  is  law, 
and  therefore  the  word  corresponds  more  to  the  word  *•'•  droit  " 
in  French  or  Latin  than  to  the  word  "  /o/." 

The  different  categories  into  which  the  loi^  or  rather  the 
droit^  is  divided  in  England,  merit  some  attention.  The 
common  law  forms  the  basis  of  all  civil  and  criminal  legislation  ; 
and  is  rendered  complete  and  definite  by  the  jurisprudence  of 
the  courts  of  common  law  and  the  jurisdiction  of  equity. 
Nothing   is    lacking    to    its    constitution   as   a    complete    and 

independent  law.     Only  in  those  matters  which  at  the  outset 

103 


i64  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

were  not  regulated  by  the  civil  law  was  the  Parliamentary  law 
able  to  intervene  ;  but,  having  once  gained  a  footing,  its 
supremacy,  which  in  other  countries  is  uncertain  and  fitful, 
soon  became  recognised  in  all  those  departments  of  the  law 
with  which,  at  first,  it  had  nothing  to  do.  Let  us  take,  for 
example,  the  position  of  the  married  woman  ;  this  position  was 
originally  determined  by  the  common  law  ;  but  the  day  came 
when  the  women  of  the  upper  classes  could  no  longer  endure 
it.  Was  Parliament  called  upon  to  interfere  ?  Certainly  not. 
The  court  of  equity  brought  its  jurisprudence  to  bear  upon  the 
modification  and  mitigation  of  the  original  semi-barbarous 
regulations,  and  the  first  law  worthy  of  the  name  was  put  into 
force  in  1870.  This  provides  an  almost  complete  illustration 
of  the  exact  position  and  importance  of  each  different  section 
of  the  law.  What  we  should  consider  an  imperfect  and 
superannuated  disposition  of  justice,  to  be  replaced  without 
delay  by  practical  laws,  is  from  the  English  point  of  view 
adequate  in  every  sense  and  equal,  or  even  preferable,  to  justice 
practically  applied  ;  the  English  only  formulate  a  law  when  the 
common  law  or  the  Pretorian  law  diverge  too  flagrantly  from 
the  legal  system  they  are  desirous  of  upholding. 

Is  a  further  illustration  necessary  ?  Let  us  consider  the 
criminal  law.  In  France,  we  have  drawn  it  up  in  such  a  way 
that,  in  the  category  of  causes  which  concern  the  honour  and 
life  of  our  citizens,  every  detail  is  regulated  by  an  exact  text  ; 
nothing  is  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  judge.  In  England,  the 
opposite  method  has  been  followed.  The  criminal  law  belongs 
almost  entirely  to  the  common  law  ;  and  every  care  has  been 
taken  to  leave  it  untouched.  It  has  been  considered  wise  to 
complete  it  by  a  long  series  of  judgments  covering  every 
possible  case.  The  pliability  and  variety  of  this  method  of 
jurisprudence  is  considered  best  fitted  for  so  delicate  a  matter  ; 
the  trenchant  language  of  the  law  being  thereby  avoided. 

Wc  must  now  explain  the  general  aspect  presented,  not  by 
the  law  but  by  British  legislation.     At  a  first  glance  the  most 


THE   LAW  AND   PUBLIC  OPINION       165 

stn'Icing  thouo;h  negative  trait  which  characterises  English 
statutory  legislation  is,  that  the  necessity  for  logical  sequence 
and  uniformity  is  weak  or  non-existent.  Parliament  has  no 
hesitation  in  admitting  some  of  the  corollaries  of  a  general 
truth,  while  rejecting  or  adjourning  others,  although  they  may 
all  appear  to  obtrude  with  an  equally  urgent  logical  necessity. 
When  to  introduce  a  reform,  it  begins  with  a  limited  number 
of  facts,  or  a  certain  province,  it  feels  in  no  way  obliged,  urged, 
nor  even  tempted  to  include  every  other  fact  in  connection 
with  the  subject,  or  every  other  province  to  which  precisely 
the  same  reasons  apply,  and  which  decided  it  to  intervene.  At 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  comparatively  liberal 
legislation  for  the  cotton  industry,  and  a  legislation  which  was 
extravagantly  protectionist  and  minutely  regulative  for  the 
woollen  industry,  existed  side  by  side.  Such  a  contradiction 
was  in  no  way  repellant  to  the  English  mind  ;  the  faculty  of 
generalisation  being  too  weak  to  raise  any  protest  against  it. 
During  the  whole  of  the  long  period  when  the  Parliamentary 
statutes  comprehended  a  systematic  and  rigorous  regulation  of 
labour,  the  jurisprudence  of  the  tribunals  was  invariably 
conducted  on  the  principle  that  labour  ought  to  be  free. 
This  discrepancy  and  disorder  in  the  sphere  of  authority 
created  no  surprise,  nor  was  any  impatience  felt  at  its  pro- 
longation. Since  18 19  innumerable  factory  acts  have  essayed 
to  limit  the  hours  and  fix  the  conditions  of  labour  for  women 
and  children  in  the  manufactories,  the  only  debatable  point 
apparently  being  whether  the  State  is  under  an  obligation  to 
protect  the  feeble  and  helpless  against  the  egotism  of  those  who 
would  take  advantage  of  them  ;  but  even  when  this  point  was 
admitted,  the  law  was  merely  a  general  one,  no  distinction  at  all 
being  made  between  the  various  manufacturing  industries. 
The  English  legislator  began  with  a  single  industry,  that  of 
cotton,  to  this  he  successively  added  those  of  wool,  silk,  linen, 
the  coal  mines,  the  iron  mines,  the  dye  works,  the  match 
factories,  the  potteries,  and  last  of  all,  attendance  in  shops.      A 


i66  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

final  Act  in  1878  consolidated  all  these  partial  regulations. 
Instead  of  generalising  in  the  beginning,  and  applying  the 
regulation  to  the  whole  field  over  which  the  effects  of  the 
principle  were  felt,  Parliament  drew  up  a  series  of  sectional 
and  arbitrary  laws,  which  it  eventually  combined  and 
summarised.  The  antinomy  caused  no  uneasiness  nor  did 
any  one  feel  the  necessity  of  resolving  it. 

If  the  necessity  for  logic  is  so  small,  the  necessity  for 
uniformity  is  even  smaller  ;  this  is  but  natural.  The 
magnificent  development  of  English  history  has  only  been 
possible  because  the  exclusive  privileges  granted  to  trade  and 
commercial  enterprises  have  been  limited  to  certain  places,  and 
have  never  assumed  the  character  of  a  general  legislation. 
The  new  manufactories  were  established  in  little  towns  placed 
outside  the  radius  of  these  regulations  ;  there  they  could  thrive 
unchecked,  and  gathered  around  them  an  immense  working 
population  ;  this  is  the  reason  why  to-day,  with  the  exception 
of  London,  the  most  important  manufacturing  centres  are  not 
to  be  found  in  the  towns  which,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  were  esteemed  the  most  populous  and 
flourishing. 

It  is  not  irrelevant  to  observe  that  most  of  the  principal 
English  laws  have  been  drawn  up  in  consequence  of,  and  in 
accordance  with,  the  results  of  an  inquiry.  Now,  it  is 
difficult  to  extend  an  inquiry  to  every  class  of  facts ;  for 
example,  to  every  branch  of  industry  comprised  under  the 
general  heading  of  industrial  labour;  and  it  is  necessary,  if  the 
inquiry  is  to  be  followed  up,  to  limit  it  either  to  the  mines, 
the  cotton-spinning  mills,  the  dye-works  or  the  shops,  in 
connection  with  which  the  inquiry  has  been  made.  It  is 
therefore  unusual  for  a  general  legislation  to  result  from  the  vast 
mass  of  documents  thus  accumulated.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
statute  which  results  from  the  inquiry  presents  none  of  those 
qualities  of  connection  and  sequence  which  characterise  French 
law.     The  inquiry  is  a  whole  collection  of  little  facts,  and  when 


THE  LAW  AND  PUBLIC  OPINION       167 

an  endeavour  is  made  to  draw  conclusions  from  it,  on  one 
point  the  evidence  is  found  to  be  contradictory  and  therefore  a 
solution  one  way  or  the  other  would  tc  unjustifiable  ;  on  another 
point  the  evidence  is  insufficient,  the  question  is  not  ripe  ;  and 
on  a  third,  reasons  of  a  general  order  prevent  the  adaptation  of 
the  exceedingly  categorical  conclusions  contained  in  more  than 
a  hundred  concordant  answers.  Nothing  is  left,  therefore,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  to  form  the  object  of  a  legislation  except  a  very 
small  number  of  reasons,  picked  out  at  random,  and  without 
any  consecutive  order  from  the  picture  in  which  they  all  figure. 
How  different  from  French  law  !  We  always  bear  in  mind 
when  we  take  up  legislation  some  general  principle  from  which 
we  deduce  formulas  of  a  more  limited  character.  All  w^e  ask 
from  the  inquiry,  when  one  has  been  made,  is  an  insight  into 
the  whole  matter,  confirming  or  negativing  this  general 
principle.  Thus,  without  an  effort,  we  command  a  view  or 
the  whole  field  of  the  law,  and  are  never  hindered  by 
insufficient  or  contradictory  results  from  an  inquiry  on  any 
given  point  ;  for  on  such  a  point,  as  on  every  other,  our 
certainty  comes  to  us  from  an  all-embracing  standpoint,  and 
the  whole  statute  is  evolved,  without  encountering  any  con- 
tradiction, from  the  abstract  idea  which  served  us  as  the  point 
of  departure. 

Let  us  now  closely  examine  the  varying  character  of  the  law 
considered  in  itself,  and  see  under  what  form  it  appears.  The 
French  laws  are,  as  a  rule,  limited  to  certain  imperative,  but 
simple  provisions;  they  refer  the  care  of  organising  the  working 
out  of  detail  to  the  executive  power,  which  meets  every 
requirement  by  regulations.  The  English  are  of  opinion  that 
the  legislative  power,  even  in  its  subordinate  departments, 
should  not  be  delegated  ;  Parliament  expects  to  have  the  entire 
control ;  itself,  as  a  rule,  enacting  the  necessary  regulations  and 
embodying  them  in  the  law,  in  a  series  of  interminable,  rami- 
fied, confused  and  diffused  texts.  Sec,  for  example,  the  Act  of 
1834  relating  to  municipal  corporations,  with  its  141  Articles, 


1 68  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

some  of  which  are  as  long  as  a  clause  in  the  Code  Napoleon. 
See  the  three  great  electoral  laws  of  1832,  1867  and  1872  ; 
which  are  overwhelming  volumes  in  themselves  ;  the  last  con- 
taining several  addenda,  the  first  of  which  in  sixty-six  articles 
is  a  regular  set  of  laws  in  itself,  covering  every  detail  in 
connection  with  elections.  It  must  be  recognised  that  if  there 
is  one  thing  a  body  of  658  members,  who  have  come  from 
every  part  of  the  country,  are  unfitted  for,  it  is  to  draw  up  a 
code  of  laws.  But  the  English  have  made  their  choice  between 
two  evils.  Hitherto  they  have  exposed  themselves  to  the 
inconveniences  of  an  overloaded  yet  incomplete  text,  rather 
than  allow  the  law  to  be  interpreted  by  the  administrative  and 
official  authority. 

It  has  become  the  custom,  in  our  time,  to  delegate  a  large 
proportion  of  administrative  power  to  certain  ministerial  depart- 
ments, particularly  the  department  of  Commerce,  and  the 
Local  Government  Board.  They  may  draw  up  provisional 
orders  to  be  laid  upon  the  table  in  Parliament,  which  assume 
the  force  and  authority  of  a  law,  and  after  a  certain  time  pass 
into  currency  without  opposition.  Parliament  therefore,  in 
principle,  is  always  the  supreme  authority  ;  it  alone  has  the 
power  of  conferring  a  legal  value  upon  provisional  orders  drawn 
up  by  responsible  bodies.  Nothing  could  be  more  unlike  laws 
enacted  by  decrees  or  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  regulations 
relating  to  public  administration,  which  may  be  ignored  by  th^ 
Houses,  and  are  complete  without  their  confirmation. 

The  second  point  to  be  noticed  is,  that  in  the  making  of  his 
laws  the  Englishman  proceeds  by  enumerating  cases,  persons, 
or  titles — which,  however  numerous  they  may  be,  are  never 
complete — instead  of  proceeding  by  general  enunciations.  If, 
for  instance,  the  matter  under  consideration  is  a  robbery  com- 
mitted in  a  mine,  he  will  enumerate  the  various  kinds  of  ore 
capable  of  being  worked  and  liable  to  be  stolen  :  calamine, 
manganese,  blacklead,  coal,  &c.  Similarly,  in  the  construction 
of  houses,  the   legislator   himself  makes  a   list  of  the   incom- 


THE  LAW  AND  PUBLIC  OPINION       169 

bustible  materials.  Surely  this  is  a  great  mistake,  for  such 
enumerations  are  restrictive  without  being  complete.  It  is  true 
that  the  legislator  generally  follows  up  the  catalogue  of  par- 
ticular cases  by  a  general  provision  covering  other  cases  of  the 
same  kind.  But  this  raises  the  question,  Why,  then,  is  the 
general  provision  not  sufficient  for  him  ?  Here  is  proof  of 
weakness  in  the  faculty  of  generalisation  ;  the  mind  of  an 
Englishman  cannot  make  use  all  at  once  of  abstract  statements. 
Before  he  can  handle  them  with  ease  he  makes  experiments 
with  particular  cases  ;  he  needs  assurance  that  his  formula  is 
not  an   empty   one   but  applicable  to  actual  facts. 

The  third  point  which  should  be  noted  is  the  tendency  of 
the  English  to  avoid  all  general  laws,  viz.,  those  which  com- 
prehend a  matter  in  its  entirety,  and  place  it  on  a  regular  and 
definite  footing.  Perhaps  this  tendency  is  partly  due  to  their 
consciousness  that  such  a  law,  being  of  necessity  long,  compli- 
cated— particularly  with  their  system  of  compilation — and  rich 
in  innovations  and  abrogations,  would  never  be  able  to  sur- 
mount the  obstacles  encountered  in  legislative  procedure. 
They  make  it  a  rule  to  confine  the  legislation  within  the 
narrowest  possible  limits  to  points  exactly  specified,  leaving 
the  rest  to  be  provided  for  by  former  texts.  Run  through  the 
list  of  statutes  for  a  year,  1868-69  ^o''  example.  Deduct  the 
Acts  which  relate  to  finance,  and  little  more  than  a  hundred 
will  remain,  forty-six  of  which  were  amendments  or  exten- 
sions of  existing  laws.  The  laws  are  frequentlv  permissive 
or  adoptive,  particularly  in  matters  of  local  administration  ; 
signifying  that  the  legislator  limited  himself  to  describina;  a 
certain  organisation,  which  urban  corporations,  for  example 
could  adopt  or  reject  at  will.  The  Bill  passes  ;  the  Press  discuss 
it  ;  a  corporation  chances  it  ;  the  thing  succeeds  ;  an  example 
is  set,  and  opinion  formed.  When  the  movement  is  in  working 
order,  but  not  till  then,  the  law  is  converted  into  a  compulsory 
law.  In  like  manner  the  laws  are  frequently  temporary,  a 
thing  unknown  among  us  since  the  Restoration.     They  are 


I70  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

frankly  put  forward  as  trial  laws.  For  example,  the  law 
relating  to  secret  voting.  A  careful  study  of  the  Statute  book 
will  show  us  that,  even  with  permanent  laws,  the  English  make 
no  pretension  to  what  might  be  called  finality,  i.e.^  to  having 
made  a  law  which  may  be  taken  as  final  and  leaves  no  margiji 
for  appreciable  modification.  This  emanates  from  a  sense  of 
equity.  The  Englishman  is  conscious  of  human  inability  to 
comprehend  a  considerable  space  or  time  ;  he  feels  the  necessity 
of  taking  things  quietly  and  by  degrees,  of  proceeding  by  curves 
of  wide  radius  so  that  there  is  no  risk  of  the  locomotive  being 
upset  by  too  sharp  a  turn.  Our  neighbours  have  profited  by 
this  circumspection.  Their  laws  have  not  suffered  revolution 
any  more  than  their  political  institutions.  I  mean  that  a 
statute  is  rarely  a  direct  contradiction  to  the  statute  it  replaces  ; 
it  is  merely  an  amendment.  But  who  cannot  see  that  this  must 
result  in  the  division  of  the  legislation  into  minute  sections,  and 
the  enormous  accumulation  of  legislative  texts  in  force,  at  the 
same  time,  and  on  the  same  subject  ?  Quite  recently  a  parish 
having  occasion  to  ascertain  their  rights  in  a  question  of  public 
hygiene,  their  counsel  discovered  that  there  were  twentj^-seven 
laws  on  the  subject,  wholly  or  partially  in  force,  to  which  it 
was  necessary  to  refer.  In  1873,  at  a  meeting  of  the  London 
Statistical  Society,  it  was  pointed  out  that  the  laws  on  marriage 
were  contained  in  about  thirty  statutes,  which  had  to  be  applied 
by  15,000  clergymen  and  2,000  or  3,000  civil  officials.  Further, 
many  sections  of  these  statutes  having  been  repealed  or  fallen 
into  disuse,  it  was  often  difficult  to  distinguish  them  ;  the 
result  being  the  gravest  irregularities  in  this  very  important 
matter. 

The  law  was  not  only  divided  up  and  scattered  over  an 
infinity  of  little  statutes,  but  its  phraseology  was  very  defective, 
by  which. I  mean  that  not  only  was  one  law  often  in  con- 
tradiction to  other  laws  still  in  force,  but  the  end  was  often  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  beginning.  This  was  largely  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  English  did  not,  like  us,  have  special  com- 


THE  LAW  AND   PUBLIC  OPINION       171 

misblons  made  up  as  far  as  possible  of  men  who  were  authorities 
ou  the  subject  ;  they  simply  held  committees  of  the  whole 
House,  distinguishable  from  the  sittings  of  the  House  itself  only 
by  the  presidentship,  which  devolved  not  on  the  Speaker  but 
on  some  other  member,  and  by  the  procedure,  which  afforded 
greater  facilities  for  conversation  and  the  observations  of  the 
various  members  ;  but  the  composition  was  the  same,  i.e.^  all 
the  members  of  the  House  might  be  present  and  take  part  in  the 
discussion  if  they  wished.  The  result  was  that,  either  during 
the  committee  or  the  ensuing  sitting  of  the  House,  every  one 
of  the  658  members  was  tempted  to  have  his  say,  and,  without 
any  preparation,  to  propose  an  amendment,  thereby  disturbing 
the  constitution  of  a  law  which  he  had  not  comprehended  in 
its  entirety,  and  with  all  the  parts  of  which  he  was  not 
acquainted.  It  was  evident  that  there  was  a  danger  in  this 
which  was  increased  and  aggravated  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  members  present.  The  laws  evolved  by  so  com- 
plicated an  elaboration  were  naturally  extremely  confused  ; 
they  were  thrown  back  into  indecision  by  the  superabundance 
and  lack  of  harmony  of  the  provisions  which  were  supposed  to 
make  every  part  of  them  clear.  Lord  Brougham  criticised 
this  manner  of  law-making  with  his  customary  bitterness. 
The  inconvenience  of  it  grew  to  such  a  pitch  that  in  1850  it 
was  considered  obligatory  to  vote  for  a  statute  revising  another 
statute,  which  had  been  incautiously  voted  for  in  the  same  year  ; 
which,  however,  did  not  prevent  the  judges  from  sharply  criti- 
cising the  legislation  emanating  from  Parliament  with  their 
accustomed  freedom  of  speech.  In  1873  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  declared  that  no  other  act  was  more  complicated  and 
perplexing  than  the  Licensing  Act.  The  legislator  must  have 
intended  sometJiing,  but  what  it  was  he  intended  the  judge 
was  incapable  of  discovering.  Thereupon  Mr.  Justice  Black- 
burne  from  his  commanding  position  began  to  speak,  saying 
tliat  he  agreed  with  the  learned  Lord  in  the  general  tenor  of 
his  observations,  but  did  not  admit  that  the  Act  in  question  was 


172  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  most  confused  specimen  of  modern  legislation  ;  that  qualifi- 
cation he  considered  ought  to  be  applied  to  the  two  Acts  con- 
cerning the  public  health. 

The  English,  however,  were  sensible  of  these  defects  in  their 
legislation  ;  they  tried  the  system  of  special  commissions,  but 
so  awkwardly  that  the  remedy  did  not  seem  applicable  to  the 
evil.  John  Stuart  Mill  suggested  a  specious  remedy  when  he 
demanded  that  a  permanent  commission  of  Lords  and  members 
of  Parliament  should  be  constituted,  consisting  of  the  highest 
authorities,  to  whom  it  would  be  compulsory  to  refer  every 
bill  emanating  from  either  private  initiative  or  from  the  Govern- 
ment, All  the  legislation  would  thus  pass  through  the  same 
hands,  every  part  would  be  placed  in  harmony  with  every  other 
part,  and  a  tradition  created.  But  hitherto  nothing  of  the  kind 
has  been  attempted. 

It  seems  as  if  many  of  these  inconveniences  might  have  been 
removed  by  the  codification  or  consolidation  of  the  law  carried 
out  in  certain  of  its  branches.  Attempts  from  this  point  of 
view  and  to  this  end  have  more  than  once  been  made,  but  they 
have  all  ended  in  nothing,  the  English  people  being  decidedly 
hostile  to  the  idea.  In  the  more  recent  attempts  at  codifica- 
tion or  consolidation  it  was  quite  apparent  that  the  most 
violent  opposition  was  not  offered  by  lawyers,  bankers,  mer- 
chants, nor  even  statesmen  :  the  real  obstacle  was  the  invincible 
reluctance  of  the  public.  Certain  political  men  were  in  every 
case  exceptions  to  this  rule.  Lord  Selborne,  for  instance, 
who  gave  little  encouragement  to  a  deputation  from  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  soh"citing  the  codification  of  the  laws 
relating  to  commerce  ;  and  again,  Lord  Bramwell,  when  the 
codification  of  the  criminal  law  was  attempted  by  Stephen. 
The  principal  difficulty  by  which  enterprises  of  this  character 
are  met,  is  peculiar  to  England  ;  it  originates  in  the  prodigious 
copiousness,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  prodigious  variety  and 
incoherence  of  the  common  law,  complicated  by  equity.  The 
reluctance  of  the   public   is  doubtless   the   effect  of  this  sub- 


THE  LAW  AND  PUBLIC  OPINION       173 

conscious  reasi  ning  :  the  confusion  is  too  great ;  if  you  take  it 
in  hand  you  cannot  tell  whither  it  will  lead  you  ;  you  will 
eliminate  the  needful  parts  ;  the  order  you  try  to  introduce  will 
prove  to  be  another  kind  of  disorder,  and  a  disorder  of  which 
neither  the  judges  nor  the  parties  concerned  will  be  able  to 
make  head  or  tail.  The  machinery  works  in  this  way  :  leave 
us  the  chaos  to  which  we  are  accustomed — it  is  the  safest. 

Efforts  have  been  made,  nevertheless,  particularly  of  late 
years,  to  find  a  remedy  for  the  incoherence  of  the  law.  The 
codifications,  or  rather  consolidations,  effected  present  the  follow- 
ing characteristics  :  (i)  They  seem  to  be  merely  an  improved 
version  of  the  text  or  of  existing  customs,  and  make  no  attempt 
at  the  modification,  systematisation,  and  subordination  common 
to  positive  principles.  (2)  They  seem  to  bear  only  on  com- 
mercial law  and  administrative  law.  Criminal  law  and  civil 
law  have  been  carefully  omitted.  With  regard  to  criminal 
law,  a  noteworthy  attempt  was  nevertheless  made  by  Stephen  : 
he  applied  to  the  problem  a  consummate  science  and  a  mind 
trained  in  every  judicial  subtlety,  but  these  advantages  shrank 
into  nothingness  before  the  inextricable  difficulties  of  the 
common  law.  I  must  dwell  for  a  moment  on  this  singular 
incident. 

The  history  of  the  attempted  codification  of  the  law  on 
homicide  is  very  instructive  ;  it  throws  light  on  the  structure 
and  turn  of  the  English  mind.  It  too  depends  upon  the 
common  law.  It  distinguishes  between  murder  and  man- 
slaughter ;  but  it  only  defines  them  indirectly  in  the  two 
formulas  of  indictment.  The  essential  difference  in  the  two 
formulas  consists  in  the  words  "  malice  aforethought,"  which 
is  to  be  found  in  the  indictment  of  murder  and  not  in  the 
indictment  of  manslaughter.  But  it  so  happened  that  the 
judges,  when  pronouncing  on  each  case,  were  guided  first  of 
all  by  the  circumstances  of  the  case  and  their  own  feeling  of 
equitv  ;  and  then  they  set  to  work  and  distorted  the  expression 
"  malice  aforethought  "  in  order  to  make  it  appear  compatible 


174  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

with  their  decision.  This  led  to  a  regular  chaos  of  exceptions 
and  qualifications,  and  it  was  never  certain  that  a  criminal  act, 
replaced  in  the  formula  of  indictment  of  murder,  would  not 
eventually  be  considered  as  murder  and  punished  as  such. 

The  method  employed  by  Stephen  was  significant.  A 
lawyer  named  Russell  examined  all  the  cases  of  homicide 
which,  in  the  course  of  many  years,  had  been  tried  in  the 
courts  of  justice,  probably  exhausting  the  list.  Stephen  pro- 
posed to  find  formulas  appropriate  to  the  various  cases 
enunciated  by  Russell,  so  that  in  the  new  code  the  same  solu- 
tion would  be  found  which  had  already  been  given  to  them  by 
the  judge.  He  did  not  trouble  to  find  out  whether  any  of 
these  cases  were  exceptional,  or  the  solutions  contradictory  in 
principle.  He  made  an  epitome  of  them  in  spite  of  all  his 
conclusions  and  formulas,  and  thus  arrived  at  an  extremely 
laborious,  confused  and  subtle  definition,  complicated  by 
numberless  restrictions,  which  in  its  turn  was  nothing  but 
chaos. 

Stephen  was  naturally  led  to  detail  the  different  reasons  for 
excuse  or  modification  and  to  set  them  up  as  general  rules. 
Now  the  danger  of  this  was,  that  these  rules  might  cover  a 
large  number  of  cases  where  there  was  in  reality  no  room  for 
excuse  nor  reason  for  softening  the  penalty,  all  of  which 
goes  to  prove  how  much  better  it  would  have  been  to  start 
with  the  unmistakable  general  principles  which  command 
the  whole  subject.  Generalisation  was  to  a  certain  extent 
exercised,  on  account  of  the  use  of  formulas,  but  it  was  applied 
to  individual  cases,  which  led  to  the  involuntary  inclusion  of 
cases  that  should  be  excluded,  and  the  exclusion  of  cases  that 
should  be  included.  In  Stephen's  method  there  was  an  interior 
antinomy.  Directly  an  effort  is  made  to  base  all  conclusions 
on  examples  and  particular  cases,  care  must  be  taken  not  to 
deduce  from  them  general  formulas.  The  sole  method  in 
harmony  with  this  proceeding  is  for  the  judge  to  decide  accord- 
ing to  the  analogy  of  the  case  which  is  submitted  to  him  with 


THE  LAW  AND  PUBLIC  OPINION       175 

such  other  cases  as  he  has  encountered  in  legal  precedents. 
He  goes  from  particular  to  particular,  not  from  general  to 
particular. 

The  criticisms  formulated  by  the  Commission,  especially  by 
Lord  B  ram  well,  were  to  the  effect  that  the  common  law  had 
a  valuable  elasticity,  which  would  disappear,  leaving  nothing  to 
compensate  for  its  loss,  if  codification  in  rigid  formulas  were 
adopted.  It  is  remarkable  that  not  one  single  member  of  the 
Commission  pointed  out  the  real  defect  of  the  method,  and 
freed  the  normal  rules  by  generalisation  applied  to  the  codifi- 
cation of  a  subject.  The  chief  point  of  these  rules  consists, 
not  in  finding  a  formula  which  includes  every  individual  case 
furnished  by  jurisprudence,  but  in  ignoring  and  eliminating 
everything  which,  in  these  individual  cases,  is  exceptional  and 
secondary,  and  in  retaining  in  the  formula  only  what  is 
essential.  The  commission,  in  adopting  the  project,  made  two 
significant  observations  :  ( i )  They  declared  that  though  in 
principle  they  had  no  objection  to  a  partial  codification,  still 
they  could  not  but  perceive  that  a  partial  codification,  in  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  understand  the  word  "  codifica- 
tion," presents  more  difficulties  than  a  general  codification  ; 
(2)  They  considered  that  before  attempting  the  codification  of 
a  matter  so  important  as  criminal  law,  it  would  be  necessary 
to  prove  and  perfect  the  method  in  connection  with  less 
important  questions.  In  this  we  see  a  point  of  view  peculiar 
to  the  English  mind.  Now  in  France,  on  the  contrary,  we 
should  say  that  the  more  important  the  subject  the  more 
necessary  it  is  not  to  delay  its  judicious  regulation  ;  smaller 
questions  could  wait. 

We  have  at  last  arrived  at  a  point  when  we  are  in  a  position 
to  sum  up  the  obvious  and  intrinsic  characteristics  of  the  law 
in  England.  These,  to  a  certain  extent,  are  the  reverse  of 
what  may  be  observed  in  our  own  country.  The  French  law 
owes  its  authority  to  justice,  of  which,  presumably,  it  is  the 
expression  ;  it  aims  at  being  reason  written  down.    It  emanates 


176  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

from  the  one  authority  adjudged  the  most  qualified  to  elaborate 
proper  rules  ;  it  is  a  philosophic  and  academic  piece  of  work. 
The  law  in  England  is  chiefly  a  matter  of  opinion  of  more  or  less 
ancient  date.  The  statutory  law  is  but  the  youngest  branch 
of  a  family  in  which  jurisprudence  and  customs  still  flourish 
with  a  superior  dignity,  if  not  an  equal  authority.  The  judge- 
made  law,  the  subject-made  law,  and  the  common  law,  with 
the  aforesaid  branch  of  equity,  have  an  extraordinary  amplitude 
and  influence  in  England  ;  they  fill  up  all  the  interstices  in 
parliamentary  legislation. 

In  France,  the  statutory  law  affects  a  certain  elevation  of 
tone,  a  certain  solemnity  of  form,  and,  so  to  speak,  a  serene 
faith  in  its  right  to  be  obeyed.  In  England,  appearances  are 
quite  the  reverse.  The  legislator  seems  to  doubt  himself ;  he 
is  visibly  impressed  by  the  suspicious  or  absolutely  relative 
character  of  his  work.  The  French  law  is  always  imperative  : 
it  orders  ;  it  enjoins.  The  English  law  is  very  often  optional  : 
it  suggests  ;  it  recommends  a  system  which  the  citizens  can  use 
or  not  at  their  pleasure.  French  law  is  voted  for  an  indefinite 
period  ;  it  is  always  presented  as  a  solution.  English  law  is 
often  voted  for  a  limited  period  ;  it  is  presented  humbly  on 
trial.  A  French  law  is  complete  in  itself  and  exhausts  its 
subject  ;  after  a  miscarriage  it  is  completely  transformed,  and 
the  new  text  in  its  turn  is  charged  with  the  same  assurance 
and  decisive  pretensions  as  the  old  one.  The  statute  book  in 
England  is  a  mosaic  of  little  statutes,  which  one  by  one  are 
timorously  amended,  first  on  one  point,  then  on  another,  and 
convey  the  impression  of  being  always  in  a  provisional  state. 
To  sum  up,  on  the  one  side  we  have  a  composition,  conceived 
at  a  sitting,  and  boldly  carried  out  ;  on  the  otlier,  a  sketch 
indefinitely  overloaded  with  touchings  up  and  "repentances." 
On  a  first  inspection  it  may  be  urged  that  the  authority, 
majesty  and  prestige  which  surround  the  law  in  France  are 
not  to  be  found  in  the  same  degree  in  England  ;  and  this,  in 
fact,   is  what    an    attentive    observation     proves,  contrary     to 


THE  LA  IV  AND   HUBLIC  OPINION       177 

current  opinion.  There  is  no  country  where  the  judges,  i.e.^ 
the  persons  whose  duty  it  is  to  administer  the  law,  criticise  it 
with  more  irony,  or  ridicule  it  with  more  humour,  and  that 
from  the  bench,  in  the  presence  of  the  litigants.  There  is  no 
country  where  more  statutes  have  fallen  into  desuetude  or  been 
set  at  naught  by  contrary  practices  which  those  in  authority 
have  given  up  endeavouring  to  repress  or  alter  ;  and  these  are 
the  tribunals  which,  thanks  to  a  legal  fiction,  are  censors  or 
revisors  of  the  law  and,  at  the  same  time,  accessories  to  the 
opposition  of  the  public. 

At  the  time  of  the  great  Parliamentary  reform  the  pub- 
lishers of  newspapers  and  tracts  intended  for  working  men, 
finding  themselves  hampered  by  the  increase  of  the  stamp  duty 
in  the  continuance  of  their  useful  publications,  left  off  stamp- 
ing them.  They  were  put  m  prison,  but  their  papers  con- 
tinued to  be  printed  and  circulated.  They  were  sentenced  to 
fines,  but  the  fines  were  paid  off  by  subscriptions.  In  four 
years  over  five  hundred  were  deprived  of  their  liberty,  but 
their  opposition  had  not  diminished.  Finally,  Parliament  gave 
in,  and  lowered  the  stamp  duty.  The  illegal  perseverance  of 
a  few  citizens  had  swept  away  the  general  and  fiscal  motives 
which  had  inspired  the  legislator,  and  which  he  still  considered 
equitable. 

The  reason  of  this  is,  that  a  law  drawn  up  by  Parliament  is, 
in  reality,  nothing  but  a  suggestion,  which  has  more  or  less 
weight  in  proportion  to  the  vehemence  with  which  public 
opinion  has  already  decided  on  the  question,  but  which, 
absolutely  compulsory  as  it  may  be  in  strict  justice,  only 
acquires  and  maintains  its  moral  authority  by  acquiescence  in 
the  inclinations  and  opinion  of  the  public.  Those  to  whom 
the  law  is  displeasing  feel  themselves  at  liberty  to  combat  it  by 
the  method  commonly  opposed  to  undesirable  customs,  viz., 
the  negation  by  contrary  practice  of  the  precept  on  which  it 
is  based.  Such  conduct  does  not  necessarily  disturb  the  con- 
sciences of  political   men  ;    on  the  contrary,   it   makes   them 

N 


178  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

first  attentive,  then  uneasy,  and  finally  often  complaisant  to 
the  breach  of  legality  which  has  opened  their  eyes  to  the 
rights  of  the  case.  Recently  the  Saturday  Review  complained 
that  the  remarkable  number  of  cases  in  which  the  law  had 
been  violated  had  been  cited  as  an  argument  against  the  Deceased 
Wife's  Sister's  Bill  (which,  at  the  time,  there  was  a  question 
of  modifying).  The  argument  criticised  was  perfectly  in 
accordance  with  the  entirely  practical  idea  the  English  have 
formed  of  the  law.  Reason  and  justice,  considered  in  them- 
selves are  not  the  venerated  source  of  the  law  ;  rather  is  it  the 
energetic  and  persevering  action  :  indirect  sign  and  evidence  of 
their  presence. 

Moreover,  there  have  never  been  wanting  in  England 
thinkers,  who  are  ready  to  call  those  who  systematically  violate 
the  law  good  servants  to  the  public.  They  take  an  honourable 
and  prearranged  part  in  the  work  of  legislation,  and  form  a 
counterpoise  tc^  the  political  men  who  systematically  uphold 
unwise  laws  because  they  are  unable  to  foresee  whither  a  first 
reform,  no  matter  how  humble  and  moderate,  will  lead  them. 

Honour  to  those  who,  like  Wallace,  from  pure  love  of 
justice  have  put  on  the  uniform  of  transgressors  of  the  law. 
The  doctrine  that  the  laws  must  be  obeyed,  even  the  bad  ones, 
and  no  matter  to  what  extent  they  may  have  been  modified  or 
abrogated,  should  be  accepted  with  great  reservations.  Some 
of  the  most  salutary  reforms  in  the  history  of  England  were 
brought  about  by  opposition  to  bad  laws,  and  it  is  certain  that 
without  such  opposition  they  would  never  have  been  effected, 
or  would  have  been  effected  too  late  to  cure  the  evil.  It  was 
by  a  flagrant  violation  of  the  law  that  O'Connell  and  the 
electors  of  the  county  of  Clare  brought  about  the  Catholic 
emancipation.  It  was  the  verdicts  returned  by  humane  juries, 
despite  their  oaths,  which  led  to  the  abolition  of  the  atrocious 
penal  laws  which  disgraced  the  statute  book  fifty  years  ago. 
Lawyers,  merchants,  and  landlords  successfully  combated  this 
reform  for  a  long  time.     "The  learned   judges,"  said  Chief 


THE  LAW  AND  PUBLIC  OPINION       179 

Justice  Ellenborough  in  the  House  of  Lords,  "are  unanimous 
in  their  opinion  that  justice  and  the  public  safety  require  that 
the  death  penalty  should  not  be  remitted  in  cases  which  come 
under  this  section  of  the  communal  law  (/.r,,  the  theft  of  an 
article  exceeding  the  value  of  forty  shillings).  If  we  suffer  this 
Bill  to  pass  we  shall  not  know  where  we  are,  and  whether  we 
arc  standing  on  our  heads  or  our  heels."  ' 

'  Sir  James  Mackintosh. 


CHAPTER   V 


ROYALTY 


It  has  been  said,  with  as  much  accuracy  as  there  can  be  in  so 
general  a  statement,  that  England  is  in  reality  a  republic 
wearing  the  semblance  and  invested  with  the  forms  of  a 
monarchy.  What  substance  is  there  in  this  semblance  and 
these  forms  ?  What  degree  of  consistency  and  tenacity,  what 
probable  stability  do  they  contain  ?  What  services  do  they 
still  render,  what  can  they  set  against  the  growing  need  of 
returning  to  fact,  and  harmonising  appearances  with  actuality  ? 
These  are  delicate  questions,  which  resolve  themselves  into  the 
question  of  what  hold  royalty  still  has  upon  the  masses  ?  The 
civilian  and  the  statesman  receive  their  word  of  command  from 
the  "  man  in  the  street."  In  a  community  which  is  becoming 
more  and  more  democratic,  the  judicial  and  political  conception 
of  the  crown  cannot  continue  to  differ  essentially  from  the 
popular  conception.  Its  tendency  is  to  become  but  a  more 
educated  expression  of  the  same  idea.  The  future  of  the 
monarchic  institution  depends  on  the  extent  to  which  it 
responds  to  the  requirements  of  the  imagination,  the  bias  of 
the  feelings,  the  method  and  operation  of  the  mind,  the 
individual  conception  and  the  hereditary  instincts  of  the  name- 
less crowd. 

Monarchy  has  one  very  considerable  advantage  over  all  other 
political  systems  :  it  is  the  form  of  government  which  is  most 
intelligible  to  the  masses,  the  only  one  that  is  visible.  It 
conveys  to   those   who    think    only    through    sensations — and 


ROYALTY  i8i 

their  number  is  still  very  large — a  direct  and  simple  demon- 
stration of  authority.  That  a  House  comprised  of  six  hundred 
and  seventy  members  is  the  effective  legislative  force  in  a 
country,  the  sovereign  author  of  every  general  precept  which 
each  person  must  obey,  is  a  complex,  oblique,  and  artificial 
idea,  calculated  to  disturb  and  disconcert  minds  which  are  not 
trained  in  analysis.  If  they  obtained  their  conception  of  "  the 
law "  from  it  alone,  they  might  regard  Parliament  as  the 
outward  presentment  and  embodiment  of  supreme  power,  with 
the  requisite  tone,  accent,  and  perhaps  gesture  of  command, 
but  for  them  it  would  never  possess  the  great  soul  of  authority, 
that  inexplicable  essence  before  which  the  individual  will  is 
instinctively  prostrated.  What  an  exercise  of  the  faculty  of 
abstraction  is  required  in  order  to  comprehend  that  after  a 
debate  which,  whether  viewed  from  a  distance  or  close  at 
hand,  seems  the  acme  of  confusion,  a  surplus  of  votes  thrown 
into  an  urn,  or  of  persons  passing  through  a  door,  can  produce 
an  order^  i.e.,  a  thing  complete  in  itself,  homogeneous,  cate- 
gorical, decisive,  conquering,  arrogant,  which  claims  nothing 
less  than  the  right  to  deprive  each  man  of  self-government, 
and  forces  upon  him  the  sacrifice  of  his  preferences  !  What  a 
superabundance  of  vigour  is  required  for  such  a  victory,  pro- 
ceeding from  an  abstract  operation  of  addition  and  subtraction, 
after  a  vote  as  hazardous  as  a  throw  of  the  dice  !  It  is  indeed 
a  paradox.  On  the  other  hand,  no  exercise  of  the  faculty  of 
abstraction  is  necessary  in  order  to  understand  that  such  an 
on/er  can  proceed,  resounding  and  irresistible,  from  the  mouth 
of  a  single  indi\idual.  With  a  considerable  majority  of  the 
English  people,  especially  the  two  millions  of  new  rural 
electors,  the  fact  of  a  vote  in  an  assembly  does  not  enter  into, 
nor  become  part  of,  their  ordinary  conception  of  the  law, 
which  they  picture  to  themselves,  either  after  the  manner  ot 
their  ancestors,  as  a  custom  valuable  from  the  force  of  habit, 
and  the  mystery  of  remote  origins,  or  as  the  personal  and 
present  will  of  the  sovereign. 


i82  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

What  has  just  been  said  of  the  legislator  can  with  still 
greater  reason  be  said  of  the  executive.  Kings  readily  call 
themselves  the  fathers  of  their  people  ;  and  whether  they  are 
or  not,  it  is  unquestionable  that  the  monarchic  institution  was 
originally  copied  from  paternal  authority,  ?'.<?.,  from  a  model 
with  which  every  man  is  acquainted  in  infancy  and  many 
realise  afterwards  on  their  own  account.  It  is  enough  for 
each  citizen  to  look  at  himself  in  the  midst  of  his  belongings 
in  order  to  form,  not  a  precise  idea,  but  some  idea  of  monarchic 
organisation.  Parliamentary  government  has  no  prototype  so 
well  known  and  familiar  to  all  those  from  whom  it  claims 
submission.  Bagshott  made  the  very  apposite  remark  that 
when  Louis  Napoleon  invited  the  French  to  choose  between 
him  and  the  Assembly,  it  was  as  if  he  had  given  them  the 
choice,  not  only  between  dictatorship  and  liberty,  but  between 
the  clear  and  the  obscure,  the  certain  and  the  nameless, 
between  a  government  and  an  interregnum  or  vacuum.  They 
could  imagine  a  Bonaparte  on  horseback,  stretching  out  his 
hand,  and  raising  his  voice  in  command.  The  Assembly,  it 
they  imagined  it  at  all,  must  have  appeared  to  them  like  *a 
concourse  or  crowd,  such  as  they  themselves  often  made  in 
the  streets,  from  which  nothing  proceeded  but  confused 
clamourings  and  meaningless  directions.  Observe,  too,  that  in 
England  royalty  retains  the  semblance  of  supreme  authority, 
though  its  power  is  no  longer  absolute.  The  observances  with 
which  the  royal  person  is  surrounded,  the  mode  of  speech 
adopted  in  addressing  him,  the  pompous  dress  or  military 
uniform  worn  in  his  presence,  all  help  to  make  him  the  living 
image  of  authority,  obedience  to  whom  is  to  a  certain  extent 
the  first  impulse.  On  the  other  hand,  obedience  to  the 
President  of  a  Republic,  or  the  President  of  a  Council,  must 
of  necessity  be  deliberate,  and  supported  by  reason,  he  being 
practically  on.  a  level  with  his  -ministers  and  the  Assembly 
itself.  The  labourer  or  the  rustic  from  the  fields  lets  his  eyes 
wander  over  the   black-coated   figures  without  clearly  distin- 


ROYALTY  183 

guishing  which  is  the  leader.  Even  now  many  English 
peasants  cannot  conceive  of  any  effective  power  except  that  of 
the  King  ;  in  their  eyes  Parliament  is  only  an  assembly  of 
delegates  whose  duties  are  to  bring  complaints  to  the  foot  of 
the  throne,  and  control  the  public  expenditure,  the  ministers 
being  mere  councillors  and  agents  of  the  Crown.  It  would  be 
useless  to  try  and  make  these  wtf//"  interpreters  of  the  Constitu- 
tion understand  that  the  effective  power  is  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  Parliament  and  the  Cabinet.  Similarly,  what  the 
educated  gentleman  calls  public  order  sanctioned  by  law  is 
even  now  to  many  a  labourer  in  the  country  the  "  King's 
peace."  To  correct  his  formula  on  this  subject  would  not 
rectify  the  idea  he  has  formed  of  ^he  thing  he  endeavours  to 
express,  but  merely  obscure  it — in  other  words,  set  it  at  naught ; 
for  he  is  not  able  to  grasp  it  more  precisely  or  correctly. 

This  powerful  basis  for  the  monarchic  institution  naturally 
becomes  undermined  and  weakened  in  proportion  as  minds 
learn  to  exercise  themselves,  to  shake  off  their  limitations,  and 
to  make  use  of  the  faculty  of  abstraction.  The  more  parlia- 
mentary mechanism  is  illuminated  by  the  progress  of  education 
and  reason,  the  more  royalty  is  thrown  into  the  shade.  A 
singular  circumstance  must  be  noted  in  this  connection. 
Societies  and  meetings,  of  which  there  are  a  far  greater 
number  in  England  than  elsewhere,  are  like  so  many  copies 
of  Parliament,  and  explain  its  operations  in  some  sort  of 
fashion  by  a  daily  demonstration.  Gradually  the  confusion 
ceases,  the  various  parts  of  the  machinery  become  distinct, 
and  the  complicated  apparatus  is  in  its  turn  an  object  for 
representation,  an  image.  The  Englishman  is  like  a  man 
who,  by  a  daily  study  of  a  miniature  steam-engine,  at  length 
becomes  acquainted  with  all  its  parts,  pictures  them  in  motion 
and  comprehends  its  power.  When  Homer,  in  saying  that  the 
Cyclops  had  no  assemblies,  by  his  astonishment  betrayed  the 
strength  of  the  need  and  custom  of  meeting  together  among 
the  Hellenic  races,  he  tacitly  limited  the  future  and  fortune  of 


1 84  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  royal  power  in  Greece  and  unconsciously  predicted  the 
republican  transformation  of  its  system  of  government. 
Similarly  it  may  be  said  that  each  fresh  society,  each  new 
meeting  since  1769,  the  date  of  the  first  public  assembly,  has 
helped  to  render  the  monarchic  fiction  superfluous,  and  to  lead 
up  to  its  abandonment,  because  parliamentary  government  is 
thereby  simplified  to  the  mind,  and  the  reality,  at  first  unintel- 
ligible and  disturbing,  which  is  hidden  behind  the  throne, 
becomes  familiarised  and  more  surely  imaginable. 

Happily  for  the  English  monarchy  it  has  some  psychological 
supports  which  are  less  easily  shaken  and  more  permanent.  I 
have  explained  elsewhere  the  reasons  why,  in  a  nation  eager 
for  action,  the  majority  is  relatively  exempt  from  envy  in 
regard  to  the  upper  classes.  Effort  being  in  itself  a  good 
thing,  the  inequalities  of  condition  which  condemn  the  bulk 
of  the  people  to  effort,  partly  lose  their  irritating  effect  ;  the 
impression  they  produce  has  no  bitterness  ;  consequently  they 
are  nothing  more  than  the  source  of  an  interesting  variety  in 
the  picture  society  presents  before  the  eyes  of  each  individual. 
The  Frenchman  cannot  think  of  his  superiors  for  any  length 
of  time  without  returning  to  himself ;  a  proceeding  which 
often  results  in  spite  and  anger.  The  person  and  conduct  of 
the  local  squire,  great  noble,  or  prince  has  a  great  and 
impersonal  interest  for  the  Englishman,  just  in  the  same  way 
as  a  theatrical  representation.  The  bitterness  of  envy  being 
left  out  of  the  question,  the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  vulgar  are 
free  to  be  devoted  to  the  performance  of  the  various  actors, 
from  which  they  extract  amusement  at  little  expense  ;  it  forms 
a  soothing  recreation  after  days  of  incessant  hard  work,  and 
satisfies  the  commonplace  curiosity  and  rather  insipid  senti- 
mentality of  the  nation.  This  has  never  been  so  obvious  as  in 
the  last  reign.  The  sex  of  the  sovereign,  which  naturally 
diminished  the  import  of  her  public  acts,  did  not  perceptibly 
diminish  the  interest  which  the  most  insignificant  details  of 
her   private  life   excited.     Above    the    world    of   politics  and 


ROYALTY  185 

business,  with  its  arid  atmosphere  and  dim,  grey  light,  it  is 
delightful  to  catch  sight  of  a  splendour  of  magnificence,  a  feast 
for  the  eyes  ;  but  it  is  even  more  delightful  to  find  at  such  an 
altitude,  a  real  romance,  the  introduction  to  a  great  "  family 
picture."  "  Madam,"  said  Lord  Melbourne  to  Oueen 
Victoria,  "  do  you  know  why  your  marriage  has  produced 
such  an  impression  of  radiant  fehcity  ?  Because  it  is  evidently 
a  very  different  thing  to  a  mere  affair  of  State."  The  Oueen 
responded  to  this  sentiment  with  touching  confidence,  when, 
after  her  trip  to  Scotland  with  Prince  Albert,  she  published  the 
diary  which  was  so  void  of  interest  and  infantile  in  art,  but 
succeeded  on  account  of  its  very  simplicity.  In  the  times  of 
the  constitutional  monarchy  in  France  no  one  would  have 
ventured  to  print  such  a  book,  any  more  than  the  Cruise  of 
the  "  Bacchante^''  in  1886,  which  was  an  account  of  the  journey 
the  two  sons  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  just  taken  throughout 
the  British  Empire.  The  princes  observed,  took  notes,  and 
listened  to  pedantic  explanations  from  the  mouths  of  their 
preceptors,  which  were  conscientiously  reproduced  in  the  text  ; 
at  Haiti  they  bought  parallel  bars  for  gymnastics  ;  they  went 
in  for  steeplechases  at  Gibraltar  .  .  .  The  reader  is  spared 
nothing.  The  publication  of  this  wearisome  pot-pourri  is 
evidence  of  the  value  which  in  England  rank  and  title  lend 
to  the  smallest  detail  in  the  life  of  a  prince.  The  English 
narrator  confidently  reckoned  on  arousing  interest  and  wrote 
down  everything  ;  whereas  a  Frenchman  at  the  very  first  word 
would  have  had  a  presentiment  of  ridicule  and  given  up  all 
idea  of  the  work. 

Another  disposition  of  mind,  which  is  peculiar  to  the  English, 
helps  to  preserve  the  monarchy.  The  taste  for  philosophy  is 
extremely  rare  and  limited  among  the  English.  Generalisation 
pushed  to  extremes  causes  them  a  sort  of  uneasiness  ;  they 
prefer  ideas  of  average  compass,  accepting  them  as  first  and 
indissoluble  elements.  Naturally  this  precludes  any  equalised 
conception  of  society.     The  peoples  inspired  by  the  true  spirit 


1 86  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

of  equality  are  those  who,  when  confronted  by  the  varied 
elements  that  go  to  make  up  a  political  nation,  untiringly 
analyse  and  separate  them,  never  satisfied  until  they  have 
arrived  at  that  simplest  element  of  all,  the  individual.  The 
intermediary  groups  and  agglomerations  left  by  history  do  not 
stop,  hardly  delay  them  ;  they  press  eagerly  forward.  Only 
the  individual  is  in  accord  with  Nature.  When  the  limit  of 
the  operation  has  been  reached  the  human  molecule  stands 
alone,  in  its  identity,  among  the  millions  of  copies  reproducing 
it.  Equality  is  the  essential  law  of  a  society  in  which  the 
thinker  places  the  synthesis  at  the  end,  among  the  results  of 
the  most  careful  analysis.  It  is  perfectly  evident  that,  on  so 
level  a  surface,  there  can  be  no  place  particularly  designed  by 
nature,  and  effectively  sheltered,  for  the  throne.  If  royalty 
exists  at  all  it  appears  isolated  and  exposed,  there  is  nothing  to 
proclaim  its  existence  nor  surround  it  with  observances. 

The  English  have  neither  the  desire  nor  the  curiosity  to 
penetrate  so  deeply  ;  they  would  learn  how  to  reach  the  very 
source  of  vital  force  in  the  social  body  they  probe,  if  they  were 
not  so  careful  in  the  handling  of  the  scalpel  ;  but  they  fear  lest 
their  dissection  should  result  in  a  corpse  if  they  push  it  as  far  as 
the  primordial  cell.  It  is  one  of  the  most  significant  traits  of 
their  political  generalisations  that  the  individual  has  but 
recently  begun  to  figure  in  them,  even  in  a  small  degree. 
They  consider  the  individual  as  an  element,  not  natural^  but 
artificial ;  not  as  a  result  of  a  precise  analysis,  but  as  the 
residuum  of  an  exaggerated  disintegration.  The  society  they 
picture  to  themselves  is  not  an  agglomeration  of  human 
persons,  but  a  system  of  superposed  classes,  and  juxtaposed 
corporations.  Classes  and  corporations  are,  or  have  for  a  long 
time  been,  the  extreme  and  indivisible  terms  of  their  analysis. 
These  terms,  furnished  by  history,  have  been  perpetuated  just 
as  they  are  by  a  vigorous  practical  philosophy,  without  any 
examination  of  their  substance.  A  feeble  speculative  philosophy 
without  breadth  or  exigencies,  has  not  thought  of  demanding 


ROYALTY  187 

a  more  profound  investigation.  The  nation  has  therefore 
been  apprehended  as  a  vast  hierarchy  rising  liice  a  pyramid, 
of  vv^hich  the  King  is  the  apex.  Royalty  is  merely  the  most 
elevated  in  dignity  of  the  corporations  ^  w^hich,  taken  in  the 
aggregate,  make  up  the  political  world  ;  it  is  an  essential  part 
of  a  living  whole,  sustained  by  its  bulk  and  justified  by  its 
continuance ;  it  participates  in  the  stability  of  the  entire 
system,  and,  like  it,  appears  to  be  "  in  accord  with  nature  "  ; 
it  shares  the  great  esteem  and  general  belief  that  is  bestowed 
upon  this  work  of  the  centuries.  There  is  the  same  dif- 
ference between  our  monarchy  of  July  and  the  monarchy  or 
Queen  Victoria,  so  analogous  in  many  respects,  as  there  is 
between  the  capital  of  a  column  which  rises,  slender  and  alone, 
from  the  emptiness  of  a  horizontal  platform,  and  the  im- 
movable summit  of  a  mountain,  which  in  endless  undulations 
of  lesser  chains  and  little  hills,  extends  to  the  very  horizon, 
before  the  plain  begins. 

There  is  another  principle  of  life  and  tenacity  proceeding 
from  the  same  cause  :  in  England,  royalty  is  not  only  part  of 
a  vast  whole,  but  part — in  fact,  the  beginning,  of  a  series,  the 
first  link  in  a  long  chronological  chain,  the  point  of  departure 
and  basis  of  national  history.  France  no  longer  experiences 
this  impression  of  continuity  ;  she  is  unconscious  of  any 
such  necessity.  The  present  moment,  which  is  already  an 
abstraction,  is  still  further  stripped  by  our  rationalist  politicians, 
who  separate  it  from  everything  that  indicates  its  place  in  the 
series  ;  they  pretend  to  nothing  less  than  to  issue  from  time 
and  to  enter  the  absolute.  The  Englishman  does  not  consider 
that  truth  should  be  sought  outside  reality  and  life.  He  does 
not  endeavour  to  subtilise  this  abstraction  of  the  present  moment 
still  further,  bu.t  to  give  it   weight,  body  and  substance,   by 

'  It  is  well  known  that  the  word  "  corporation  "  in  English  means,  not 
only  the  social  entity  formed  by  the  combination  of  several  persons  living 
at  the  same  moment,  but  also  that  which  is  formed  by  a  series  of  in- 
dividuals, succeeding  one  another,  as,  for  example,  in  the  life  interest  of 
a  benefice. 


1 88  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

attaching  to  it  as  extended  a  past  as  he  is  able  to  conceive. 
Incapable  of  widening  his  horizon  by  philosophical  generalisa- 
tion, he  enlarges  it  by  a  sort  of  historical  generalisation. 
He  demands  from  the  indefinitude  of  the  centuries  the 
majesty  that  we  demand  from  the  abstract  indefinitude  of 
our  conceptions. 

This  mode  of  thought  forms  an  almost  impregnable  support 
for  the  monarchic  system.  Under  such  conditions  royalty  is 
not  only  an  element  in  a  complex  yet  comprehensive  system, 
but  the  most  ancient  element  of  that  system,  the  emblem  of  its 
antiquity  and  continuity.  It  is  the  centre  and  core  of  the 
political  constitution,  the  whole  of  which  nominally  proceeds 
from  it,  and  thereon  it  affixes  the  seal  of  the  past,  extending 
the  magic  of  its  immemoriality  over  the  institutions  that  are  the 
latest  of  its  offshoots,  and  even  over  the  liberties  that  have  been 
snatched  from  its  grasp.  The  English,  in  their  passion  for 
antedating  whatever  they  intend  to  hold  up  to  respect, 
continually  bring  forward  this  venerable  evidence,  whether  or 
no  they  have  documents  to  support  it ;  as  ally  or  adversary 
they  insist  on  its  taking  an  active  part  in  all  their  struggles 
and  a  share  in  all  their  contracts,  deeming  it  a  stronger 
evidence  of  antiquity  than  the  strips  of  parchment  on  which 
their  claims  are  based.  It  is  by  a  vain  and  hollow  fiction  that 
the  monarchic  party  in  France  represent  the  throne  as  the 
guarantee  of  public  liberties  ;  engendered  as  they  are  by  reason 
and  abstract  justice,  such  dependence  on  its  protection  is 
violently  repudiated.  In  England,  royalty  and  liberties  issued 
together  from  the  shades  of  history  and  thenceforward  have 
marched  side  by  side  ;  so  long  has  been  the  journey  which  has 
riveted  their  union  and,  in  a  certain  sense  blended  their 
images  in  a  vague  and  traditional  memory,  that  the  question 
of  separating  one  from  the  other  has  never  arise;i. 

Royalty  is  not  only  the  image  of  authority,  but  the  author 
and  symbol  of  national  unity.  Without  it,  in  the  past,  the 
incongruous  elements  of  which  the  nation  is  composed  could 


ROYALTY  189 

never  have  mingled  one  with  the  other  ;  and  those  which  have 
not  yet  been  absorbed  and  resist  absorption  would  disaggregate. 
Parh'amcnt,  in  its  hour,  and  to  the  extent  of  its  abihty,  has 
contributed  to  the  unity  of  the  English  people  ;  but  it  could 
not  have  consolidated  it  single-handed.  Even  now  the  bulk 
would  suffer  disruption,  and  entire  sections  become  detached, 
if  Parliament  alone  occupied  the  province  of  supreme  power. 
This  is  easy  of  comprehension.  In  an  assembly  which  is  the 
highest  visible  authority,  everything  is  decided  by  the  majority 
of  votes.  A  province,  or  colony,  the  representatives  of  which 
found  themselves  in  the  minority  in  the  sovereign  house, 
owing  to  the  adverse  agreement  of  the  remaining  members 
on  a  question  of  vital  interest,  would  be  in  the  condition  of  a 
people  subjected  to  the  worst,  most  humiliating  and  intolerable 
of  tyrannies,  that  of  another  people  ;  they  would  experience 
the  sensations  of  a  conquered  race  which  no  longer  belonged 
to  itself,  and  was  governed  by  its  conquerors.  Royalty  more 
or  less  conceals  this  oppression.  Those  who  are  sacrificed 
accept  their  part  in  the  sacrifice  with  greater  willingness, 
and  their  opposition  is  not  so  liable  to  degenerate  into  seces- 
sion, when  it  is  made  easy  for  them  to  believe  that  they  have 
to  do  with  a  single  man,  their  own  traditional  sovereign,  a 
master  who  is  also  the  master  of  their  adversaries.  They 
bow,  but  not  in  despair,  and  stand  erect  again,  uninspired  by 
inexpiable  hatred,  before  the  will  which  to-day  oppresses  them, 
but  to-morrow  will  oppress  others,  and  perhaps  protect  them. 
Parliamentary  oppression,  confronted  in  its  actuality,  docs 
not  allow  them  the  resource  of  such  illusions  ;  it  is  servi- 
tude without  cloak  or  euphemism — systematic,  implacable 
despotism. 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  if  the  North  American  colonies 
had  had  grievances  only  against  a  king,  violator  of  the  charters 
granted  by  himself,  the  most  vigorous  and  legalised  opposition 
would  not  have  degenerated  into  national  war,  nor  the  disturb- 
ances have  assumed  the  aspect  of  a  revolution.     But  by  the 


I90  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

side  of  the  King  they  saw  Parliament,  representing  a  people  to 
whom  each  generation  as  it  passed  made  them  more  remote  ; 
behind  Parliament  they  imagined  they  could  hear  even  the 
scum  of  this  nation  saying  with  a  swagger,  "  Our  American 
subjects,"  and  glorying  in  the  fact  that  they  were  a  people  who 
could  be  taxed  at  will.  It  was  this  which  rendered  grievances, 
in  substance  light,  insupportable  to  three  millions  of  men, 
material  ready  made  for  a  nation  ;  grievances  which,  if  they 
had  been  attributable  to  the  prince  alone,  would,  in  all  pro- 
bability, have  provoked  mere  irritation  and  momentary  violence. 
They  saw  no  option  but  to  fight,  disputing  the  ground  step  by 
step  ;  they  would  not  accept  another  day  of  bondage.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  unconcealed  and  too  plainly  irresistible  pre- 
ponderance of  the  House  of  Commons  in  the  Government  was, 
without  any  shadow  of  doubt,  one  of  the  causes  which  rendered 
the  gradual  emancipation  of  the  great  North  American,  South 
African,  and  Australian  colonies  inevitable.  Under  the  acknow- 
ledged sovereignty  of  a  British  parliament  the  dependence  of 
nation  on  nation  became  too  apparent  and  galling  ;  the  bonds 
had  to  be  loosened.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was,  thanks  to  the 
authority — though  purely  official  and  formal — preserved  by  the 
Crown,  that  the  remnant  of  this  dependence  was  accepted  by 
some  selt-assertive  populations,  who,  becoming  from  day  to  day 
more  definitely  separated  from  the  mother  country  by  their 
interests  and  customs,  began  to  form  new  races  and  found  a 
distinct  nationality.  Without  this  kind  of  dynastic  union, 
which  waived  their  scruples  and  saved  their  dignity,  their 
grievances  would  have  been  too  blatant  and  schism  inevitable. 
They  agreed  philosophically  that  the  choice  of  their  governor 
and  the  refusal  of  laws  voted  by  their  individual  parliaments 
should  be  nominally  in  the  hands  of  the  King  ;  if,  in  appear- 
ance as  in  reality,  they  had  been  under  the  dominion  of  the 
British  Parliament  neither  Canada,  the  Cape,  nor  Australia 
would  have  borne  their  yoke  with  patience. 

In  short,  it  may  be  said  that  in  a  country  like  the  British 


ROYALTY  191 

Empire,  where  so  many  incongruous  elements  are  in  juxta- 
position, the  pure  parliamentary  system  without  a  king,  or 
with  a  king  in  name  only — in  other  words,  government  by  a 
Convention — could  only  have  led  to  a  series  of  tense  and 
patent  struggles,  which,  in  the  beginning,  would  have  hindered 
the  consolidation  of  unity,  and  later  on  would  have  rendered  it 
altogether  impossible,  if  the  more  or  less  approved  expedient  of 
a  purely  dynastic  bond  had  not  been  adopted.  The  presence 
of  the  King,  and  the  authority  he  still  retains  under  the  wing 
of  Imperial  Parliament,  has  often  robbed  contests  of  the 
inexpiable  character  of  a  struggle  of  people  with  people,  a  sort 
of  struggle  for  life.  Royalty,  which  in  the  beginning  afforded 
leisure  for  the  reproduction  and  consolidation  of  moral  and 
political  homogeneity,  even  now,  by  means  of  the  fictions  of 
which  it  is  the  basis,  delays  the  moment  when  the  unabsorbed 
and  inharmonious  elements  shall  make  their  secession.  Every 
Englishman  who  proudly  surveys  the  immensity  of  the  British 
Empire  feels  that  royalty  largely  contributes  to  the  equili- 
brium of  this  extraordinary  fabric,  and  the  feeling  awakens  a 
vague  consciousness  of  his  debt  to  this  institution  in  the  past. 
The  monarchic  form  is  like  an  old-established  and  respected 
firm,  which  in  no  way  incommodes  its  partners,  who,  by 
reason  of  its  inoffensive  prestige,  are  deterred  from  urging  a 
speedy  liquidation.  The  day  on  which  the  official  government 
of  England  becomes  republican  will  be  closely  followed  by  one 
on  which  Canada,  the  Cape,  and  the  Australian  states  will 
proclaim  their  complete  autonomy,  and  Scotland,  and  perhaps 
Wales,  will  demand  a  federation  on  the  basis  of  equality,  even 
as  Ireland  has  done. 

Finally,  the  throne,  judged  from  the  religious  standpoint,  is 
the  symbol  of  national  independence.  The  English,  morally 
as  well  as  geographically,  are  insular.  They  have  a  dislike 
and  natural  distrust  for  the  foreigner  ;  he  is  their  enemy  ; 
they  suspect  him.  If  this  outlaw,  under  the  fire  of  hostile 
glances,  interferes  in  their  affairs,  arrogates  their  rights,  and 


192  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

claims  a  share  in  the  sovereignty  of  their  territory,  they  are 
more  seriously  angry  and  resist  the  attempt  with  greater 
energy  than  any  other  nation.  The  interference  of  the  Court 
of  Rome  has  never  been  more  resented.  The  prodigious 
success  of  the  ecclesiastical  schism  brought  about  by  Henry 
VIII.  was  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  he  gave  the  English  a 
national  God,  a  Church  of  their  own,  a  Pope  to  themselves, 
and  a  king  with  no  visible  superior.  Anglicanism  had  not 
then  assumed  an  individually  dogmatic  character  ;  it  was  only 
distinguishable  from  Catholicism  at  one  point — viz.,  that  the 
prince  occupied  the  place  of  the  sovereign  pontiff.  Jealous 
guardians  of  their  private  liberties  though  they  were,  the 
English  people  forgot  them  for  the  moment  in  the  immense 
satisfaction  of  being  no  longer  dependent  on  any  person  outside 
their  own  frontiers.  It  concealed  from  them,  or  at  least 
appeared  a  sufficient  compensation  for  the  evils  of  a  revolu- 
tion resulting  from  the  elevation  and  illimitable  extension  of 
the  royal  power.  The  care  with  which  the  second  of  the 
Tudors  caused  the  "  imperial "  character  of  the  throne  of 
England  to  be  twice  proclaimed,  thereby  asserting  his  equality 
with  any  foreign  potentate  whatsoever,  clearly  indicated  the 
goal  towards  which  the  chief  of  the  new  Church  was  at  once 
urged  and  followed  by  the  whole  nation.  Schism  could  have 
had  no  greater  encouragement.  It  responded  to  the  passion 
for  national  autonomy  with  which  every  Englishman  was  at 
the  time  possessed.  Later  on,  less  for  its  own  sake  than  on 
account  of  its  eligibility  as  a  protection  against  the  common 
enemy,  Calvinism  was  introduced  into  a  constitution  which 
was  not  ready  to  receive  it.  Religious  feeling  began  to 
develop  with  undeniable  sincerity  and  ardour  ;  but  in  the 
revival  of  dogmatic  interest  the  interests  of  the  State  were  not 
lost  sight  of,  for  had  it  not  set  the  ball  rolling  ?  The  act  of 
national  emancipation,  essentially  political  as  it  was,  never 
forfeited  its  place  in  the  public  esteem.  It  was  to  the  English 
what    the    Declaration    of    Independence    has    been    to    the 


ROYALTY  193 

Americans  since  1776.  The  fervour  of  feeling  it  awakened 
has  known  no  abatement,  and  its  strength  and  tenacity  saved 
the  position  in  the  Revolution  of  1534,  when  religious  belief 
was  at  its  lowest  ebb. 

All  the  force  and  prestige  royalty  owed,  and  continues  to 
owe  to  this  conception  is  plainly  evident.  For  the  King  to  be 
spiritual  head  of  the  Church  was  an  assurance  that  the  abhorred 
pretensions  of  the  See  of  Rome  would  not  be  revived  ;  the 
position  filled  was  a  more  certain  guarantee  than  the  position 
vacant.  If  the  throne  disappeared  what  would  become  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  left  to  itself?  Who  can  tell?  An  irresis- 
tible gravitation  might  perhaps  restore  it  to  its  traditional 
centre.  The  Oxford  Movement,  that  of  Pusey  and  Newman, 
seemed  evidence  in  this  direction.  Sombre  and  terrifying  is 
the  dream.  The  throne  is  like  a  counterpoise  which  drags 
this  great  moral  force  in  the  opposite  direction,  or  a  centre  of 
attraction  which  retains  it  within  the  orbit  of  national  life. 

At  the  present  juncture  this  powerful  interest  seems  on  the 
wane.  Tolerance  reigns  supreme  in  every  British  law  ;  no 
official  position  is  closed  to  Dissenters ;  Parliament  is  com- 
posed of  men  belonging  to  every  creed  ;  Jew  and  atheists 
elbow  each  other  without  oflFence  at  the  promiscuity,  and, 
finally,  the  Church  of  Ireland  has  quite  recently  been  dis- 
established— all  these  are  signs  that  the  question  no  longer 
holds  the  same  position  in  the  political  world,  nor  arouses  the 
same  apprehensions  as  it  used  to  do  ;  that  the  public  mind  no 
longer  requires  the  same  reassurance  of  "  royal  supremacy," 
symbol  and  surety  of  independence,  wherewith  to  face  the  See 
of  Rome.  If  ever  the  State  policy,  in  which  the  Revolution  or 
1534  originated,  loses  its  last  hold  on  public  opinion,  if  the 
actual  decline  ot  faith,  or  the  development  of  independent  sects, 
causes  the  idea  to  prevail  that  the  change  of  front  of  a  Church 
in  decline  would  not  be  without  precedent — and  this  scornful 
conviction  would  assure  to  the  nation,  under  another  form 
the  political  security  she  prizes  so  highly — royalty  would  lose 

O 


194  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

much  of  the  extraordinary  esteem,  power,  and  influence  it  has 
enjoyed  for  three  centuries  in  its  theocratic  role  as  guarantee 
of  the  imperial  autonomy  so  dear  to  every  British  subject  ; 
and  one  of  the  chief  pillars  of  the  monarchic  institution  would 
give  way. 


PART    V 

THE    INDIVIDUAL    AND    THE   STATE 


CHAPTER    1 

THE    INDIVIDUAL    AND    HIS    FUNCTION    IN    THE    STATE 

Looking  at  the  English  political  world  from  a  distance,  the 
eye  is  irresistibly  attracted  to  the  two  poles  which  occupy  the 
extreme  points.  On  the  one  side,  is  the  enormous  body  of 
public  authorities  with  their  agencies,  delegations,  and  sub- 
divisions, the  whole  designated  by  a  single  collective  title — 
the  State.  On  the  other,  is  the  individual,  first  with  the 
appendages  which  are  merely  an  extension,  or,  as  it  were, 
excrescence  of  himself,  and  afterwards  in  the  groups  which 
he  helps  to  form  for  the  purpose  of  augmenting  his  forces 
and  making  the  utmost  use  of  his  energy.  What  are  the 
surface  characteristics,  fundamental  nature,  and  actual 
essence  of  these  two  great  factors  ?  In  what  light  does  each 
regard  itself  and  the  other  ?  What  respective  domains  do 
they  occupy  ?  In  what  directions  and  with  what  circum- 
locutions do  they  alter  their  boundaries  ?  These  are  the 
questions  I  propose  to  discuss.  They  only  partially  touch  on 
constitutional  law,  but  constitutional  law  in  its  entirety  is 
affected  by  the  solution  of  these  questions. 

It  is  not  easy  to  arrive  at  a  solution.  England's  trans- 
formation is  rapid.  To  give  an  exact  sketch  of  this  little 
world  in  the  process  of  evolution  is  as  difficult  as  to  photo- 
graph a  troop  advancing  at  a  run,  and  not  only  advancing, 
but  wheeling  round  without  stopping  or  breaking  line  until 
it  has   almost    faced   about.     On    the    outside    the    order    is 

197 


198  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

unchanged,  while  the  inner  files  gradually  make  a  half  turn 
and  begin  to  march  in  another  direction.  The  complexity 
of  this  double  movement  would  make  any  simple  description 
unintelligible  ;  we  must  analyse  it  and  represent  it  by  two 
distinct  images.  The  most  reliable  method  is  to  begin  by 
depicting  the  characteristics,  situations,  and  relations  resulting 
from  general,  potent,  and  established  facts,  which  were  still  in 
the  ascendency  less  than  half  a  century  ago.  Afterwards  we 
can  point  out  which  of  these  facts  have  been  more  or  less 
undermined,  overturned  and  disturbed,  and  ascertain  the 
direct-  or  indirect  effects  of  the  work  of  dislocation.  The 
effects  are  generally  slower  and  more  interrupted  than  would 
have  been  expected  from  such  strong  dissolvent  forces.  An 
influence  which  has  long  been  exerted  under  the  action  of  a 
powerful  cause,  is  maintained  by  force  of  habit  long  after  the 
cause  has  lost  its  vigour  and  virtue.  On  the  other  hand,  our 
logic  is  too  anxious  to  sum  up  the  inevitable  consequences 
contained  in  a  new  situation.  The  fruit  will  come  out  of 
the  flower,  and  the  flower  out  of  the  bud  ;  but  our  imagination 
peeps  into  the  bud,  and  plucks  the  fruit  before  the  right  time 
has  come,  judging  it  to  be  already  ripe.  It  must  have  time  to 
ripen. 

I. — The  Individual. 

In  a  methodical  study  the  individual  comes  first. 

Other  nations  resign  themselves  to  action  for  the  sake  of 
the  credit  attaching  to  it,  the  repose  following  it,  or  the 
enjoyments  procured  by  it  ;  but  the  English  love  action  for 
its  own  sake.  This  is  evident  to  any  attentive  observer 
who  has  spent  a  little  time  in  the  country.  The  best  proof 
of  it  is  furnished  by  the  classes  who  control  their  own 
destinies.  I  mean  those  whom  an  hereditary  opulence 
renders  independent  of  labour.  Averse  to  indolence,  they 
allow  no  relaxation  to  their  bodies.  Cricket,  yachting, 
rowing,  shooting,  lawn  tennis  and   riding,  occupy  the  greater 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE    STATE     199 

part  of  their  time.  Hunting  has  an  equal  charm  for  them, 
and  when  the  season  comes  public  affairs  have  little  chance  of 
competing  with  grouse  shooting.  Games  of  football  and  the 
Oxford  and  Cambridge  regattas  are  no  mere  diversions  for 
lads ;  the  Derby  is  not  simply  an  amusement  for  the  un- 
occupied and  frivolous  ;  it  is  a  national  solemnity  in  which 
all  England  is  interested  ;  the  Olympian  games  in  miniature. 
Articles  devoted  to  sport  occupy  a  disproportionate  space  in 
English  newspapers.  The  London  journals  confine  themselves 
to  ten  or  twelve  /:olumns  a  week  against  twenty-five  or  thirty 
occupied  by  leading  articles  ;  but  even  this  would  ■  seem 
excessive  to  French  readers.  The  provincial  papers  far 
exceed  this  proportion  :  The  Scotsman  devotes  forty-five 
columns  to  sport,  while  the  leading  articles  only  occupy 
forty-seven.  The  English  gentleman  eagerly  devours  this 
literature.  Outside  sport,  which  consumes  a  large  portion  of 
the  leisure  of  the  upper  classes,  we  find  a  gentleman,  in 
London  or  the  country,  expending  a  superfluity  of  energy  in 
the  nobler  branches  of  human  activity.  In  the  House  of 
Commons  able  members  are  not  content  with  the  work  of 
Parliamentary  sittings.  A  large  portion  of  the  day,  while 
the  Ministers  are  superintending  the  despatch  of  affairs,  they 
sit  on  committees,  debating  a  host  of  minor  questions  of 
detail  concerning  local  legislation.  In  the  evening  ministers 
and  members  meet  together  and  discuss  subjects  of  general 
interest  with  lucidity  until  midnight.  No  one,  until  quite 
recently,  ever  seriously  complained  that  the  burden  was  too 
heavy  for  him,  and  demanded  for  mundane  diversions  or 
slumber  the  hours  that  in  other  countries  were  not  claimed 
by  politics.  In  provincial  England  there  is  not  a  single 
personage  of  any  standing  but  willingly  devotes  much  of 
his  time  and  thought  to  the  afiairs  of  the  parish,  the  district, 
or  the  county,  and  yet  fails  to  attend  the  meetings  of  a 
large  number  of  voluntary  associations.  While  he,  of  his 
own   free  will,  undertakes   these    labours,  one  of  his   sons    is 


200  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

perhaps  in  Australia  or  Manitoba,  leading  the  hard  life  of 
a  shepherd  on  the  borders  of  civilisation  ;  and  another  is  a 
missionary  at  the  Cape — his  life  as  a  shepherd  of  men  being 
no  less  toilsome  than  that  of  his  brother. 

I  have  now  made  plainly  evident  the  imperious  need  for 
movement  and  action  which  dominates  the  English  nation 
from  one  end  of  the  world  to  the  other.  When  we  witness 
their  extravagant  expenditure  of  force  in  every  direction,  with 
or  without  personal  or  public  profit,  we  cannot  doubt  that  it 
is  the  outcome  of  some  profound  and  invincible  tempera- 
mental necessity,  traces  of  which  must  be  obvious  in  the 
political  customs  and  tendencies  of  the  nation. 

If  we  consider  this  microcosm  perpetually  revolving  in  the 
centre  of  a  circle  of  other  bodies  :  the  relations  established 
between  it  and  them  :  the  personality  of  the  individual, 
extended  by  his  family,  and  fortified  by  riches,  as  exemplified 
in  the  classes  into  which  the  citizens  are  divided :  we  shall 
see  at  what  points  the  individual  comes  into  close  contact 
with  the  State. 

2. — Personal  Liberty. 

The  general  of  an  army  before  he  advances,  assures  himself 
that  he  has  control  of  his  base  of  operations.  Man  only  acts 
with  decision,  vigour,  and  perseverance  when  the  free  dis- 
position of  his  body  and  the  free  use  of  his  own  property  are 
assured  to  him.  This  condition  is  an  essential  preliminary  : 
to  provide  it  is  the  business  of  public  authorities.  But  the 
Government  can  turn  against  their  object  the  means  of  action 
which  have  been  granted  to  them  for  its  attainment.  The 
Englishman  has  always  foreseen  and  feared  this  perversion. 
His  disposition  to  fear  and  avert  it  has  been  strengthened  from 
the  very  beginning  by  historical  causes  which  date  back  to  the 
Norman  Conquest. 

The  power  of  the  State  in  England  was,  at  an  early  date, 
incorporated    in    a    prince,    who    was    invested   with  immense 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     201 

power  and  inclined  to  all  the  excesses  of  a  despot.  The  first 
necessity,  therefore  was  to  be  protected  against  him.  British 
law  bears  traces  in  all  its  branches  of  this  primitive  fear  and 
defiance.  Parliament  forms  a  protection  for  the  individual 
against  the  Crown — the  judges  against  Parliament  and  its 
officials — and  the  jury  against  the  judges.  Parliamentary 
procedure,  over-zealous  in  protecting  the  rights  of  the 
members — ^judicial  procedure,  over-zealous  in  the  defence  of 
the  accused,  are  the  outcome  of  a  belief  that  the  means  of 
intimidation  and  corruption  at  the  disposition  of  supreme 
power  are  immense  ;  that  every  official  appointed  to  share  in 
the  control  of  supreme  power  is  liable  to  become  its  accomplice  ; 
that  the  interest  of  supreme  power  is,  in  the  immense  majority 
of  cases,  in  opposition  to  the  interest  of  the  citizen  ;  that  in 
every  case  supreme  power  is  tempted  to  oppress  some  citizens 
at  the  instigation  of  others,  and  that  no  precaution  should  be 
neglected  to  ensure  protection  against  so  formidable  and 
perverse  a  neighbour.  The  English  never  willingly  call  upon 
the  State  to  assure  fair  play  between  individuals.  They 
always  have  a  fear  lest  its  protection  should  degenerate  into 
oppression  ;  as  a  rule  they  prefer  to  run  the  risk  of  an  unequal 
struggle  with  private  individuals  on  a  level  with  themselves, 
rather  than  summon  an  ally  or  even  a  judge  from  the  camp 
which  might  assume  the  mastery  over  both  themselves  and 
their  opponents.  If  there  were  no  worse  evil  than  to  be 
constrained  by  a  higher  power  to  act  contrary  to  one's  own 
wishes  or  intentions,  the  State,  most  powerful  among  powers, 
most  irresistible  by  reason  of  its  prestige  and  habit  of 
command,  the  great  names  of  those  it  represents,  and  the 
public  welfare  of  which  it  is  the  organ,  is  assuredly  the  most 
to  be  dreaded. 

The  protection  of  person  and  property  against  the  Govern- 
ment assured  to  the  individual  is  civil  liberty.  The  English 
in  very  early  days  coveted,  seized,  planted  and  firmly  rooted 
it    in    the    common   law.     Up    to  the   present  century    other 


202  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

liberties  were  protected  in  England  much  as  they  are  else- 
where, and  it  is  by  the  protection  and  help  it  secured  to  the 
individual  for  the  safe  keeping  of  his  person  and  his  goods  that 
the  common  law  has  been  distinguished  from  time  immemorial 
from  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  Continent.  As  a  general 
rule  the  subject  was  entrusted  to  the  arbitration  of  supreme 
power.  It  was  decreed  in  England  in  the  thirteenth  century 
that  (i)  no  one  could  be  taxed  except  by  the  vote  of  the 
representatives  of  the  nation  ;  (2)  arrested,  except  on  a 
warrant  from  a  duly  qualified  magistrate  ;  (3)  deprived  of  his 
property  and  imprisoned  except  after  sentence  by  a  competent 
tribunal  in  accordance  with  the  verdict  of  the  jury  ;  (4) 
detained  without  trial  for  an  offence  if  he  offered  to  furnish 
bail,  or  for  a  crime  after  a  certain  lapse  of  time.  Between  the 
thirteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  the  nation  never  lost  an 
opportunity  of  reasserting  and  acting  upon  these  principles, 
and  vehemently  insisting  that  they  should  be  acknowledged 
and  confirmed  by  the  authorities  ;  afterwards  in  a  moment  of 
laxness  they  were  allowed  to  drop.  Taxation  by  vote  finally 
disappeared  with  Charles  I.  ;  monopolies,  a  form  of  indirect 
taxation,  were  proscribed  by  law  under  James  I.,  and  no  effort 
was  made  to  revive  them.  The  only  opening  for  arbitrary 
arrest  was  closed  when  it  was  recognised  that  the  warrants 
must  name  the  persons  to  be  seized,  and  specify  the  motives 
for  the  act  of  constraint.  The  two  laws  of  "  habeas  corpus  " 
(31  Ch.  II.  ch.  2,  and  56  Geo.  III.  c.  100)  likewise  set 
aside  anything  which  could  justify  or  facilitate  arbitrary 
detention.  Criminal  suits  were  planned  essentially  on  the 
assumption  that  they  conceal  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the 
strong  and  the  knavish  to  persecute  the  innocent  and  the  weak. 
The  accused  is  treated  with  a  half-tender  indulgence,  and  all 
the  machinery  of  the  law  is  put  into  motion  on  his  behalf ; 
it  is  the  accuser  who  would  seem  to  be  the  culprit,  to  such  an 
extent  is  he  hurried,  vexed,  circumvented,  harassed,  and 
threatened  with  all  the  penalties  of  perjury.      It  was  necessary 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE   STATE    203 

that  the  judge,  administrator  of  all  these  indemnifications, 
should  be  upright,  independent  of  circumstances,  and  free  in 
relation  to  the  supreme  power ;  the  Bill  of  Rights  proscribed 
the  setting  aside  of  a  law  in  any  case  whatsoever,  and  the 
Act  of  Establishment  confirmed  the  irremovability  of  the 
magistrates  in  the  higher  Courts.^  In  spite  of  this  the  judge 
appointed  by  the  Crown,  being  a  State  personage  is  suspected, 
and  a  jury  of  a  dozen  individuals  now  pronounce  on  the  case 
and  on  the  title  of  the  case. 2  As  even  in  such  case  corruption 
might  procure  a  certain  deference  to  power,  unanimity  has 
been  made  an  essential  of  each  verdict.  One  patriotic  juror 
is  enough  to  baffle  the  intrigues  of  an  oppressive  Government, 
It  is  a  sort  of  judicial  Uberian  veto.  Finally,  no  privileged  juris- 
diction is  admitted  for  the  official  nor  for  the  administrative 
act ;  neither  are  covered  by  the  order  of  a  superior.  The 
administrative  act  comes  within  the  cognisance  of  the  ordinary 
courts,  and  the  official  is  under  their  jurisdiction.  The  State 
itself  is  on  a  level  with  him  in  their  pretorium,  and  like  him  is 
justiceable.  The  whole  system  is  upheld  and  inspired  by  the 
same  spirit,  which  has  not  flagged  for  one  day  in  the  course  of 
centuries.  The  members  of  our  Constituent  Assembly  of 
1789  were  justly  reproached  with  having  based  their  political 
system  on  a  resolution  of  distrust  of  the  supreme  power;  the 
English  founded  their  whole  administrative  and  judicial 
system  on  a  similar  resolution. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  these  fundamental  indemnifications  were 
not  much  good  except  to  rich  and  leisured  persons.  Ordinary 
judges  were  few  in  number,  and  jurisdictions  of  appeal  remote. 
The  expenses  of  justice  attained  enormous  figures.    Poor  people 

'  Irremovability  was  not  enough.  There  should  be  no  temptation  in 
the  way  of  advancement  or  promotion.  It  is  now  the  general  rule,  to 
which  there  have  been  few  exceptions,  that  once  appointed  they  are 
not  removed. 

*  This  second  prerogative,  disputed  in  affairs  of  the  press,  was  con- 
firmed in  1792  by  an  Act  which  claimed  to  be  a  simple  declaration  of 
an  immemorial  right. 


204  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

had  no  means  of  paying  them  ;  they  were  obliged  to  forego 
justice  in  order  to  escape  a  ruin  worse  than  the  individual 
violence,  or  partial  despoliation  of  which  they  were  the  victims. 
All  administrative  policy  and  local  justice  were  in  the  hands  of 
the  great  landed  proprietors  ;  they  exercised  it  uncontrolled. 
Even  in  the  present  day  it  is  pervaded  with  a  certain  arbi- 
trariness. NeverthelesSj  protection  was  sufficiently  extended 
to  cover  all  the  classes  whose  voice  is  heard  in  history,  and  it 
largely  contributed  to  the  maintenance  of  a  strong  public 
feeling,  which  imbued  the  authorities  and  every  class  down 
to  the  very  outcasts,  with  the  illusion,  desire  for  and  pride  of 
English  liberty. 

The  guarantees  of  personal  liberty  and  property  in  England 
give  occasion  for  a  last  remark.  The  feeling  they  inspire  is 
stronger  in  that  counftry  than  elsewhere,  because  its  force  and 
impetus  are  derived  from  two  well-springs  whose  waters  rarely 
mingle — revolution  and  tradition.  On  the  Continent  the 
same  guarantees,  in  the  imperfect  degree  in  which  they 
existed  under  the  old  system  of  government,  were  based 
on  precedents  preserved  in  some  local  custom  or  judicial 
jurisprudence  ;  no  resounding  voice  proclaimed  them  to  the 
world.  Sometimes  they  were  the  result  of  a  royal  motu 
propria^  which  could  be  withdrawn  or  modified  at  any  time 
by  the  prince  or  his  successors.  Mandatories,  accredited  by 
the  entire  nation,  did  not  formulate  them  sword  in  hand, 
register  them  in  contract  form,  and  set  them  down  in  in- 
violable ordinances.  Every  effort  of  the  States  General  in 
this  direction  proved  miserably  abortive.  The  English,  by 
a  singular  chance,  ever  since  the  thirteenth  century,  had  been 
in  possession  of  a  solemn  Declaration  of  Rights,  formulated 
by  the  representatives  of  the  nation,  and  accepted,  or  rather 
tacitly  countenanced,  by  the  Crown.  This  they  renewed  and 
completed  in  1627  ^"^  1688,  after  which  it  passed  into  the 
common  law,  transferred  red  hot  from  the  revolutionary  melt- 
ing-pot,  and   receiving    the    indelible   impression   ot    the    new 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     205 

mould.  Round  this  impression  feebler  traditions  crystallised 
without  disguising  it  ;  the  course  of  time  perpetuated  with- 
out impairing  the  strength  of  the  design  received  at  its  origin. 
Tile  common  law,  properly  speaking,  contains  no  trace  of  this 
design.  It  is  enshrined  in  custom,  not  a  part  of  it  ;  a  Vul- 
canlan  rock  lost  in  a  Neptunian  sea.  Under  the  uniform 
patina  of  the  centuries  a  powerful  alloy  can  be  recognised, 
the  fusion  of  which  was  once  the  national  work  par  excellence. 
No  other  part  of  the  common  law  rings  with  the  same  sound 
as  these  four  or  five  great  maxims ;  and  that  they  have  pene- 
trated deep  into  the  English  heart  and  become  one,  as  it  were, 
with  the  public  honour,  is  because  revolution  still  vibrates 
under  tradition.  The  long  toil  and  labour  which  go  to  the 
formation  of  custom  would  not  have  sufficed  to  thus  set  free 
and  exalt  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  these  maxims  were  destined  to  become 
customs.  To-day  each  bears  witness  to  the  accumulatory 
power  of  heredity.  In  France,  liberty  was  the  birth  of  yes- 
terday ;  it  is  a  doctrine,  but  not  only  a  doctrine.  It  has  all 
the  excitement  of  novelty,  and,  moreover,  the  vibrating 
sonorousness  and  faculty  of  expansion  which  are  charac- 
teristic of  abstract  formulas.  But  it  has  not  had  time  to 
reach  and  rally  the  obscure  and  secret  forces  of  our  nature. 
The  French  for  centuries  were  accustomed  to  seek  refuge 
from  a  despotism,  merciless,  near  at  hand,  and  arbitrary,  in 
a  despotism  gentler,  more  remote  and  more  methodical. 
They  escaped  from  a  feudal  sovereign  only  to  fall  into  the 
clutches  of  royalty.  It  was  still  despotism,  changed  in  nothing 
except  form,  degree,  and  exercise.  In  the  progress  from  the 
worse  to  the  lesser  evil  no  feeling  of  resentment  was  connected 
even  with  the  principle  of  liberty  ;  the  principle  was  not  as 
yet  involved.  Besides,  our  instincts  are  not  forearmed  against 
despotism  ;  but  the  judgment  and  passions  it  calls  into  play 
violently  rebel  against  servitude  ;  a  revolt  that  does  not  date 
back  further  than  the  eighteenth  century.     The  fundamental 


2o6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

nature  of  man,  his  spontaneous  inclination,  or  what  might  be 
called  his  unconscious  and  involuntary  mind,  rather  tend  to 
appeal  to,  and  desire  the  protection  of  the  State. 

In  England,  the  State  is  confronted  by  some  individuals  who, 
from  time  immemorial  and  from  father  to  son,  have  been 
accustomed  to  think  and  repeat  that  their  person,  their  purse, 
and  their  house  are  inviolable,  and  chiefly  threatened  by  the 
State  ;  that  they  must  keep  a  close  watch  upon  it,  and  arm 
themselves  against  it.  Person,  purse,  and  house  are  to  every 
English  subject  three  fortresses  which  must  not  be  approached 
without  an  authorisation  from  himself  or  his  fellows.  This 
develops  a  certain  trait  in  his  character,  which  becomes 
slowly  accentuated,  intensified,  and  solidified  from  generation 
to  generation.  The  instinctive  resistance  it  offers  to  pressure 
from  without  has  none  of  the  irregularities  and  interrup- 
tions of  calculated  and  deliberate  resistance.  It  is  like  the 
difference  between  the  compact  and  solid  bone  which  main- 
tains its  position,  and  the  strained  muscle  which  may  weary 
and  relax.  The  slow  operation  of  time  has  thus  procured  for 
the  English  subject  an  advantage  over  the  Frenchman  in  their 
respective  struggles  with  the  State.  In  the  case  of  both 
nations  liberty  has  won  a  brilliant  victory,  more  recent  in 
the  one,  in  the  other  more  ancient,  but  ever  present  in  the 
minds  of  the  masses,  as  their  revolutionary  records  prove. 
Further,  the  influence  of  a  long  past  has  intensified  the 
Englishman's  instincts,  and  affected  even  the  "  unconscious  " 
depths  of  his  nature.  The  horror  of  servitude  is  firmly 
implanted  in  his  temperament.  His  need  of  independence, 
like  the  spring  of  a  native  and  spontaneous  passion,  sets  him 
going  on  occasion.  All  the  forces  of  heredity  struggle  in  him 
and  for  him  against  the  despotism  of  the  State. 

3. — Political  Liberties. 

It  is  not  enough  to  wring  from  authority  a  promise  to  respect 
civil  liberty  ;  it  must  be  guaranteed  by  methods  the  operation 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     207 

of  which  is  more  regular  and  peaceful  than  a  revolution,  and 
less  exhausting  for  the  community.  This  is  the  object  of 
political  liberties.  I  place  under  this  head,  first,  the  right  of 
association  and  assembly  and  the  liberty  of  the  Press  ;  and, 
second,  a  national  representation  founded  on  a  widely  ex- 
tended electoral  franchise.  Through  the  medium  of  meet- 
ings, grievances  take  shape,  and  begin  to  assume  a  collective 
character.  Through  the  medium  of  the  Press,  the  voice  of 
the  orator,  and  the  dumb  thought  of  the  philosopher,  penetrate 
to  the  extreme  limits  of  the  country,  sowing  everywhere 
identical  convictions  and  concordant  desires.  By  means  of 
association,  these  desires  become  united  and  summarised,  and 
an  exact  impression  of  their  force  is  obtained.  Finally,  the 
representative  system  obtains  them  admittance  to  the  sphere 
of  authority  and  activity  in  the  government. 

Between  the  last  mentioned  of  these  liberties  and  the  others, 
several  marked  distinctions  may  be  noted.  I  will  not,  how- 
ever, dwell  on  them  now,  but  will  limit  myself  to  two  remarks 
which  bear  directly  on  my  subject.  The  first  is,  that  the 
right  of  association  and  assembly  and  the  liberty  of  the  press 
have  always  been  regarded  in  England,  not  as  political  liberties, 
but  as  civil  liberties.  They  have  never  been  included  with 
the  right  of  suffrage  in  the  difficult  problem,  overloaded  with 
words  and  often  irrelevant,  the  object  of  which  is  to  establish 
a  good  system  of  government.  They  have  never  been  raised 
to  the  dangerous  dignity  of  constitutional  prerogatives ;  but 
have  been  left  in  the  position  of  purely  private  rights.  They 
have  always  been  regarded  as  corollaries  contained  in  the 
fundamental  postulat  of  personal  liberty  from  which  they 
have  become  separated.  The  right  of  assembly  proceeds 
directly  from  the  right  every  man  has  to  come,  go,  or  stay 
where  he  likes.  The  right  of  association  is  simply  a  develop- 
ment of  the  right  to  enter  into  contracts.  The  liberty  of  the 
Press  is  a  particular  example  of  the  liberty  to  think  and  speak. 
There  is  no  occasion  to  grant  these  rights  expressly,  nor  to 


2o8  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

define  them  ;  they  are  tacitly  implied.  The  series  of  statute 
books  have  nothing  to  show  in  any  way  resembling  our  in- 
numerable laws  on  these  important  matters  ;  not  one  of  the 
English  declarations  of  law  contain  any  mention  of  them. 
The  question  is  understood  as  settled  in  advance  ;  its  perfectly 
simple  solution  is  implied  in  the  principle  of  the  liberty  of 
the  subject,  and  the  most  elementary  logic  will  suffice  for  its 
deduction. 

In  France,  we  have  always  held  that  the  Press,  associations, 
and  assemblies,  so  powerful  both  for  good  and  evil,  must  be 
considered  in  themselves,  judged  from  the  point  of  view  of 
their  practical  effects,  and  controlled  by  special  regulations. 
Is  it  not  singular  that  the  nation  which  is  credited  with  an 
inclination  towards  abstract  principles  and  reasoning  by  deduc- 
tion, should  be  the  very  one  which  carefully  ignores  them  in 
connection  with  so  important  a  subject  ?  Our  legislators 
have  made  it  a  rule  to  join  the  three  great  liberties  to  the 
constitutional  problem,  considering  the  matter  as  a  whole, 
and  resolving  it  by  a  compromise  between  all  the  necessities 
it  presents.  On  the  other  hand,  the  nation  which,  as  a  rule, 
has  little  liking  for  generalities  and  pure  logic,  relies  implicitly 
on  these  discredited  methods,  this  baseless  dialectic,  to  establish 
the  titles  of  the  most  essential  public  liberties.  However  that 
may  be,  these  liberties  have  gained  enormously  by  issuing  from 
the  turbulent  sphere  of  politics,  getting  clear  of  the  intrigues 
attendant  on  State  policy,  and  entering  the  quieter  judicial 
region,  where  they  are  consubstantial  with  the  immemorial 
axioms  which  safeguard  personal  freedom  of  action.  The 
most  universal  and  protective  of  organic  laws  is  as  nothing 
to  them  in  comparison  with  this  putting  out  of  court,  which 
indicates  their  position  near,  but  outside,  the  forum. 

The  system  of  political  liberties,  which  secures  to  the  indi- 
vidual the  enjoyment  of  his  private  rights,  is  perfected  by  the 
representative  form  of  government.  An  elected  Parliament 
makes    the    laws  and   controls   the   Government.     For    more 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     209 

than  fifty  years  noteworthy  statutes  have  successively  ex- 
tended the  limits  of  the  electoral  body  ;  the  suffrage  finally 
becoming  almost  universal.  For  more  than  fifty  years  the 
House  of  Commons  has  not  contented  itself  with  controlling 
the  Government  ;  it  forms  the  ministries,  the  Prince  having 
only  the  power  to  countersign  the  list  of  official  councillors 
to  the  Crown,  who  are  appointed  his  gaolers  and  masters. 
It  is  currently  believed  that  personal  liberty  will  not  be  pro- 
tected without  the  guarantee  of  an  elective  body  having  the 
prestige  and  position  of  great  power  ;  that  this  sole  guarantee 
efficiently  protects  it  ;  and,  finally,  that  the  efficiency  of  the 
protection  is  in  proportion  to  the  extension,  completeness,  and 
fidelity  of  the  representation.  The  first  point  is  obvious  ;  on 
the  second  an  understanding  is  necessary  ;  the  third  cannot  be 
admitted  without  restrictions.  Liberty  is,  in  different  ways, 
equally  threatened,  whether  the  sovereignty  belongs  to  a 
single  individual  without  check,  to  several  without  division, 
or  to  the  majority  of  the  whole  nation  without  a  counter- 
balance. It  is  always  threatened  when,  in  the  equilibrium  ot 
social  forces,  the  balance  is  too  much  on  one  side.  A  unitarian 
constitution,  whatever  its  principle,  allows  it  no  protection 
beyond  that  of  public  custom.  Let  us  confine  ourselves  to  the 
consideration  of  three  periods. 

Under  the  Tudors  and  the  first  two  Stuarts  royalty  was  omni- 
potent. I  have  pictured  it  elsewhere,  laden  with  spoils,  gorged 
with  riches,  sacrosanct,  impeccable,  elevated  in  a  sort  of 
assumption.  Erect,  intact,  it  stood  alone,  while  the  other 
social  forces  around  it  were  decimated,  disorganised,  and 
abased  ;  a  House  of  Lords  where,  at  the  feet  of  great  prostrate 
oaks,  mushroom  peers  began  to  spring  up  ;  a  House  of 
Commons  composed  of  the  creatures  of  the  Prince,  laden  with 
his  gifts  and  yet  unsatisfied  ;  a  people  weary  of  civil  wars, 
and  deprived  of  their  ordinary  leaders,  both  temporal  and 
spiritual,  by  the  overthrow  of  feudalism  and  the  downfall  of 
the  Roman  Church.      A   period  began  when  royal   despotism 

V 


210  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

no  longer  encountered  any  opposition,  and  flourished  :  a  mag- 
nificent, paternal  despoiler.  Justice  was  extinguished  in 
tyranny,  and  liberty  was  on  the  point  of  perishing,  when  a 
mighty  revival  of  public  spirit  saved  England  from  servitude. 

Towards  1800  the  scene  changed.  The  House  of 
Commons  ceased  to  be  a  body  representative  of  the  nation. 
It  merely  represented  a  limited  number  of  important  electors, 
rich  landed  proprietors  who  surrogated  themselves  for  the 
people  in  the  exercise  of  the  franchise.  This  oligarchy,  which 
also  ruled  in  the  Upper  House,  engaged  in  a  struggle  with 
royalty.  For  the  moment  it  triumphed  over  George  HI.,  but 
circumstances  were  adverse  ;  it  beat  a  retreat,  conquered  and 
captive,  though  not  as  yet  owning  it.  Partial  measures  began 
to  abound,  the  "  legislation  of  class "  as  it  is  called  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Channel,  i.e.^  in  favour  of  one  class  only. 
The  justice  of  the  peace,  a  unique  figure  in  the  world,  charac- 
terised this  period,  an  embodiment  of  its  noblest  traits.  To 
the  landed  proprietors  were  given  great  advantages,  and  all 
the  influence  ;  to  the  manufacturers  and  traders,  as  the  price 
of  their  abdication  and  at  the  expense  of  the  entire  nation,  all 
the  protections  and  prohibitions  they  demanded  ;  to  the 
common  people  the  duty  of  obedience,  but  also  the  right  to 
live.  On  the  one  hand,  repressive  and  preventive  statutes  of 
extreme  rigour,  veritable  laws  of  servitude  of  which  the  "  Six 
Acts  "  have  remained  as  a  memorable  example  ;  on  the  other, 
official  alms  offered  as  a  consolation  to  the  immense  pauperism 
which  was  the  outcome  of  the  institutions  themselves.  It  was 
a  period  of  magnificence  like  the  preceding  one,  but  its 
external  glory,  though  it  attracted  all  eyes,  could  not  hide, 
even  in  England,  the  horrible  sufferings,  extreme  degradation, 
and  eclipse  of  ancient  liberties. 

In  1B32  a  new  age  began.  The  half-open  door  allowed  the 
leading  manufacturers  and  traders  to  penetrate  into  the  legal 
country.  The  popular  masses,  following  closely  after  them, 
threw  their  weight  against  the  door  and  successively  forced  an 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE  STATE     211 

entry.  In  1884  they  were  all  admitted  into  the  electoral 
enclosure,  which,  like  a  fortified  country  town  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  seeing  its  outskirts  peopled  and  its  suburbs 
extending,  threw  down  its  ramparts,  pushed  back  its  walls, 
and  finally  took  in  a  whole  district.  Royalty  and  aristocracy 
were  in  the  position  of  an  ancient  urban  community, 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  new  residents.  They  could  only 
maintain  the  position  they  appeared  to  enjoy  by  being  silent 
with  regard  to  their  privileges,  avoiding  any  mention  of 
them  to  the  less  favoured,  and  yielding,  or  letting  it  be 
understood  that  they  would  yield,  on  any  occasion  when 
the  exercise  of  their  rights  might  create  complications  or 
appear  obtrusive.  The  ancient  influence,  possession,  and 
empire  their  title  had  once  conveyed  still  kept  them  erect  on 
a  soil  which  was  undermined  and  full  of  catacombs  ;  they 
escaped  collapse  simply  by  immobility.  Brilliant  also,  but 
more  especially  fruitful,  was  this  period  of  preparation,  in  which 
the  nation  learned  how  to  command  its  destiny.  An  incal- 
culable amount  of  iniquity,  barbarism,  misery,  servility,  and 
corruption  had  been  eliminated  ;  the  black  and  bloody  stains 
could  not  resist  the  full  light  of  discussion  in  a  Parliament 
representative  of  the  majority  of  the  people.  On  the  other 
hand  an  incalculable  amount  of  justice,  well-being,  happiness, 
and  liberty  had  been  poured  out  upon  British  soil,  and  each 
subject  participated  in  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  these  things 
had  been  accomplished  by  Houses  and  ministries,  the  leaders  of 
which  belonged  not  only  to  the  middle,  but  even  more  to  the 
upper  classes.  The  nation  had  given  suggestions,  but  neither 
it  nor  representatives  chosen  from  its  ranks  had  carried 
them  out.  Further,  it  was  confronted  by  the  shadow  and 
the  substance  of  two  great  Powers  :  a  royalty  in  decline, 
which  had  just  made  some  sort  of  figure  with  George  III., 
and  an  aristocracy,  glorious,  enlightened,  liberal,  and  opulent, 
which  owned  the  greater  part  of  the  soil,  and  thereby  had 
already,  in  a  certain  sense,  obtained  citizenship  in  the  economic 


212  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

city  in  which  modern  society  was  gradually  being  swallowed 
up.  To-day  the  substance  has  become  rarified,  and  the 
shadow  wavers  ;  democracy  advances  over  ground  that  has 
been  levelled  before  it ;  each  day  as  it  goes  by,  each  fresh 
action  performed,  revives  and  strengthens  its  feeling  of  omni- 
potence. For  the  third  time  England  is  about  to  adopt  a 
political  system  of  government  which  is  unitarian  and  without 
counterbalance.  What  has  liberty  to  fear  from  a  government 
of  each  by  all,  in  which  the  popular  majority  exercises  an 
unlimited   power  ? 

The  popular  majority  may  encounter  no  outward  obstacle 
in  the  free  play  of  its  will,  but  within  it  has  a  bridle  and  a 
regulator  ;  though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  bridle  may  not 
curb,  and  the  regulator  is  sometimes  defective,  time  and  ex- 
perience will  perfect  their  operation  and  make  it  more  constant 
and  sure.  The  interests  of  an  autocracy  or  body  of  privileged 
persons  are  in  frequent  opposition  to  the  interests  of  the  entire 
nation.  The  interests  of  the  great  majority,  on  the  contrary, 
coincide  to  a  very  considerable  extent  with  the  interests  of  the 
whole.  This  coincidence  is  essential,  profound,  and  evident  ; 
and  when  men  do  not  recognise  it  of  their  own  free  will,  they 
are  forced  to  do  so  by  circumstances.  There  is  elementary 
political  economy,  intelligible  even  to  uneducated  minds,  in 
such  maxims  as  this  :  the  spoliation  of  riches,  in  all  the  extent 
of  their  superfluity,  will,  when  divided,  yield  but  a  miserable 
dividend.  The  superfluity  provides  most  of  the  capital  by 
which  labour  is  maintained  ;  divided,  it  would  be  but  crumbs, 
and  these  crumbs  would  not  fulfil  the  functions  of  the  capital  ; 
they  would  be  rapidly  consumed  in  unproductive  enjoyments. 
An  unjust  taxation,  say  for  instance,  the  progressive  tax 
pushed  to  extremes,  discourages  economy  and  disturbs  all  those 
who  have  possessions  ;  capital  leaves  the  country  or  does  not 
become  formed.  An  artificial  rise  in  wages  increases  the  net 
cost  of  production,  restricts  the  market,  thereby  reducing  the 
demand   for  labour,  and  everything  ends   in  a   return   to   the 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     213 

former  state  of  things,  aggravated  by  the  ruinous  effect  of  the 
disorder  into  which  economical  relations  have  been  thrown. 
Only  extreme  ignorance  or  want  of  forethought  could  be 
blind  to  these  consequences,  and  a  cynically  brutal  egoism  face 
them.  The  progress  of  enlightenment,  the  publicity  of  dis- 
cussions, and  the  strong  light  they  project  on  doctrines  and 
motives,  raise  obstacles,  daily  more  powerful,  in  the  way  of 
such  attempts.  The  English  need  scarcely  fear  them  except 
at  one  point,  viz.,  the  regime  of  landed  property,  and  that 
because  they  have  to  put  right  an  abnormal  situation  :  legacy 
of  the  oligarchic  period  and  result  of  a  partial  legislation.  I 
fear  the  attempts  of  a  policy  philanthropical  and  reformatory, 
optimistic  and  credulous,  busy  and  meddlesome,  which  will  not 
recognise  the  necessary  quota  of  imperfection  in  everything 
human,  invents  remedies  for  every  ill,  and  makes  use  of  the 
State  to  produce  a  small  amount  of  material  advantage,  dearly 
bought  by  the  simultaneous  expenditure  of  the  vital  force  of 
the  individual,  far  more  than  the  effects  of  a  directly  tyrannical 
and  rapacious  policy. 

A  curious  thing  may  be  noted.  This  danger  has  been 
increasing  for  the  last  fifty  years  in  the  same  proportion  as 
Parliament  has  been  growing  more  universally  and  completely 
representative  of  the  nation.  Before  1832,  at  a  time  when  the 
immense  majority  of  the  people  was  unrepresented  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  had  no  voice  in  the  formation  of  the 
Cabinets,  public  opinion,  already  conscious  of  its  own  force, 
kept  a  vigilant  and  jealous  watch  rather  over  the  Acts  of 
Parliament  which  contained  a  set  of  regulations  or  a  hint  of 
coercion,  than  over  the  statutes  which  granted  additional 
powers  to  the  ministers  and  their  agents.  Any  intervention 
on  the  part  of  the  law  disquieted  the  nation,  because  the 
makers  of  the  law  were  like  strangers  to  them  ;  they  were 
averse  to  all  adm..iistrative  protection,  because  the  bureaucracy 
seemed  like  the  hand  of  a  government  in  which  they  had  no 
part  nor  lot.     At  the  present  day,  on  the  contrarv,  England 


214  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

can  regard  the  House  of  Commons  as  a  reproduction  in 
miniature  of  the  entire  nation,  and  the  Cabinet  as  a  repro- 
duction in  miniature  of  the  House  of  Commons.  In  the  laws 
the  nation  recognise  their  own  work  :  the  indirect  outcome 
of  their  will.  In  the  ministers  and  administrative  personnel 
they  recognise  men  taken  from  their  own  ranks,  who  represent 
them  in  some  way  or  another,  and  hold  a  power  of  attorney 
as  their  elect.  Measures  of  intervention,  therefore,  do  not 
arouse  the  same  suspicion,  nor  the  action  of  the  bureaucracy 
the  same  offence.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  prejudices  of  the 
preceding  period  have  not  yet  disappeared,  but  they  have 
diminished  and  continue  to  diminish  daily,  as  is  always  the 
case  with  effects  which  survive  their  cause.  In  virtue  of  this, 
the  plenitude  and  exactitude  of  Parliamentary  representation 
has  singularly  lessened  the  moral  obstacles  encountered  until 
quite  recently  by  governmental  protection  ;  it  has  to  a  certain 
extent  brought  into  prominence  the  liberty  of  the  individual 
by  softening  the  instinctive  dislike  and  reasoned  apprehension 
which  struggle  for  it.  Instead  of  the  spontaneous  determi- 
nation not  to  receive  it,  by  which  every  attempt  to  draw  up  a 
scheme  of  government  based  on  statutes  and  controlled  by 
officials  was  received,  discreet  suggestions,  definite  invitations, 
and  finally  urgent  summons  begia  to  appear,  addressed  to  the 
legislator  and  the  government.  The  nation  who  recognise 
themselves  in  these  personages  are  no  longer  warned  and  fore- 
armed as  was  the  case  when  they  represented  one  or  two 
classes  only,  and  not  the  whole  of  the  people.  They  do  not 
consider  it  excessive  that  the  legislator  should  prohibit  or 
prescribe  certain  actions  to  the  individual,  or  that  the  Govern- 
ment should  control,  prevent,  coerce,  and  play  the  part  of 
arbitrator  and  judge.  Nothing  but  a  long  education  by  means 
of  facts  will  exhaust  this  credit  open  to  authority,  and  insure 
the  reappearance  of  the  well-founded  aversion,  which  formerly 
protected  liberty  by  the  sure  and  deep-seated  instinct  of  the 
masses,  in  the  form  of  the  studied  objections  of  the  best 
informed  and  most  enlightened  public  opinion. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     215 

4. —  The  Family. 

The  Englishman  has  a  family.     The  judicial  ties,  which  in 
England  unite  the  wife  to  the  husband  and  the  children  to  the 
father,  are  of  a  very  special  nature.     Since  17B9  French  family 
life    has    been    organised    on    the    model    of   a    constitutional 
monarchy,  with  more  or  less  of  a  leaning  towards  the  republic. 
Up  to  our  own  days   English  family  life  has  retained  all   the 
characteristics  of  an  absolute  monarchy.     Let  us  try  to  picture 
it  to  ourselves  as  it  was  thirty  years  ago.     As  a  rule  the  wife 
had  no  dowry  ;  it  was  the  custom  among  those  who  were  rich 
or  in  comfortable  circumstances,  to  settle  the  estates  on  the 
eldest    son,    and    divide    the    bulk    of    the    personal    property 
between    him    and    the    younger    brothers.     The    daughter 
received  what  was  called  a  portion  ;  generally  a  scanty  income 
drawn  from  the  paternal  revenues.    This  undowered  condition 
is  very  easily  accounted  for.     With  a  dowry  a  woman  would 
have  claims,  and  a  certain  appearance  of  legal  rights.     The 
male  desired  to  be  the  sole  author  of  the  welfare  and  riches  of 
his  family  ;  it  ensured  his  being  sole  master.     Supposing  the 
woman   by   chance   had   great   possessions.      Marriage  robbed 
her    of  them  ;    her   capital,   the  revenues  of  her   estates,  the 
proceeds  of  her  labour  fell  to  her  husband  ;  she  could  dispose 
of  nothing,  the  making  of  a  will  was  denied  her.     Her  judicial 
personality  was  sunk  in  that  of  the  father  of  the  family  ;  she 
could  not  even  distinguish  herself  from  him  in  order  to  enter 
into  a  mutual  agreement  with   him.     She  was  not  the  legal 
guardian  of  her  children.     Legally  she  was  not  consulted  when 
there   was  a  question   of  their  marriage.     In  fact,  the  manus 
was  not   heavier  upon  the    Roman   wife.     It  was  the    most 
severe  law   in  all  this  legislation  of  statutes  and  immemorial 
usages,  no  natural  generosity  softened  it  ;  chivalry,  which  had 
so  greatly  ameliorated  the  condition  of  women  on  the  Con- 
tinent, only  glanced  over  this  race  virile  to  brutality,  leaving 
nothing   behind  to  lessen  the   arrogance  and  temper  the  de- 


2i6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

liberate  egotism  of  the  male.  It  owed  its  virtue  to  the  great 
value  attached  to  action  which  it  alone  had  the  power  of 
diminishing.  The  woman  was  only  permitted  to  be  a  faithful 
and  submissive  helpmate  ;  she  accepted  the  role  and  adapted 
herself  to  it. 

Feelings  of  deference  and  habits  of  subordination  became 
largely  developed  under  this  legal  regime.  The  English  wife 
was  humble  and  timorous  in  the  presence  of  her  lord  and 
master.  Wherever  he  went  she  followed,  even  into  the  most 
unhealthy  climates,  leaving  her  children  behind  her.  She  was 
wife  first  and  mother  afterwards.  "  How  do  you  pass  your 
time,  madame  ? "  asked  Tocqueville  of  an  American  woman, 
at  a  time  when  the  Anglo-Saxon  element  still  predominated  in 
the  United  States.  "  We  admire  our  husbands  "  :  the  answer 
might  have  come  from  an  Englishwoman.  Habits  so  con- 
firmed would  yield  but  slowly  to  the  operation  of  a  new 
judicial  system.  In  1870  and  1882  the  legislator  sowed  the 
germs  of  an  immense  moral  revolution.  Already  the  equity  of 
jurisprudence  had  seemingly  modified  the  harshness  of  the 
regulations  which  placed  the  interests  of  the  wife  at  the  discre- 
tion of  the  husband  ;  but  only  women  in  easy  circumstances 
could  utilise  the  expensive  procedure  involved.  The  two  latest 
statutes  enfranchised  women  of  every  class  ;  they  were  per- 
mitted to  have  property  of  their  own,  and  attend  to  the 
administration  of  their  own  estates.  Their  liberty  to  dispose 
of,  their  ability  to  acquire,  and  their  lesponsibility  in  the 
management  of  their  property  was  absolute  ;  the  formula 
which  reappeared  in  every  article  of  the  law  was  "  as  if 
they  were  not  married."  In  1886  the  law  went  a  step 
further  ;  the  mother  was  declared  the  legal  guardian  of  her 
children.  She  might  appoint  a  guardian  to  act  in  con- 
junction with  the  guardian  appointed  by  the  father,  or, 
which  is  more  significant,  with  the  father  himself.  It  was 
a  sudden  transition,  a  jump  from  excessive  subordination  to 
a  very  wide  independence.     It  is  a  serious  question  to  know 


Tim  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     217 

what  in  the  long  run  the  effect  will  be  on  the  wife,  and 
what  her  attitude  in  regard  to  the  head  of  the  family,  when 
instead  of  encountering  in  the  laws  the  repeated  admonition 
that  her  duty  is  to  efface  herself  and  be  useful,  she  finds  a 
sort  of  exhortation  to  consider  herself  as  one  of  two  un- 
fettered and  equal  contracting  parties,  a  judicial  personality 
with  distinct  interests  over  which  she  has  entire  control  and 
can  manage  as  she  likes. 

The  children,  who  are  more  numerous  than  in  France,  are 
brought  up  apart  in  the  nursery.  No  enervating  tenderness 
falls  to  their  share  ;  they  do  not  feel  that  they  come  before 
their  father  in  the  affections  of  their  mother.  The  former 
sees  little  of  them,  and  is  always  something  of  a  stranger  to 
them.  They  allude  to  him  ironically  as  "the  governor"- — 
a  French  boy  would  say  "  le  patron^  The  term  implies 
the  idea  that  the  supreme  authority  is  in  his  hands,  and  that 
he  is  the  master  of  the  house.  The  master  is  a  person  of 
whom  ill  is  always  spoken.  The  son,  who  in  France  feels 
unconstrained  and  at  home  under  the  paternal  roof,  the  lad 
whose  irreverent  familiarity  of  manner  makes  us  smile,  is 
rarely  to  be  met  with  in  England.  The  amiable  comrade, 
the  pleasant  and  approving  critic  of  his  parents'  methods 
of  acting,  already  half-master  of  the  house,  ready  like  a  partner 
or  party  legally  interested  to  estimate  or  discount  the  inheri- 
tance of  which  he  can  be  deprived  but  in  part,  is  hardly  known 
in  England.  There  the  most  ordinary  type  is  the  young  man 
of  determined  character,  who  only  thinks  of  himself,  makes  his 
own  plans  for  the  future,  gets  engaged  without  consulting  his 
parents,  even,  if  necessary,  marries  without  their  consent,  and 
regards  the  paternal  home  as  the  bird,  with  outstretched  wings, 
regards  the  nest  from  which  he  means  to  fly  away  at  the  first 
pufFof  wind.  The  father  is  not  confronted,  as  in  France,  with 
those  legal  parasites,  the  heirs  on  whom  the  property  is  settled. 
He  exercises  uncontrolled  what  I  might  call  testamentary 
magistracy.      Except    in    the    case    of  entail,    and     with    the 


2i8  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

exception    of    the    property    entailed,    he    can    freely    dispose 
of  his   fortune,    divide    it    equally    or    unequally   among    his 
children,    bequeath    it    all    to   a    stranger,    or    largely   endow 
some    public     institutfon.      His    decision     is    law  ;     it   is    not 
subjected  to  any  restriction.     It  is  not  supervised,  examined, 
and    even    judged    and    criti'cised     by     those    who    have    the 
consciousness   of    a   sort  of    natural   or    prior    right,    on    the 
strength    of  which    they    may    be    tempted    to    thwart    him. 
Taking  everything  into  consideration  and  all  differences  apart, 
I    know  no    personage    in    the   modern  world   who    puts  me 
more  in  mind  of  the  ancient   Roman  paterfamilias  than  the 
head    of   an    English    family ;    not    so    much    on    account  of 
the  effectiveness   of  his  authority,  since  the  son,  more  often 
than  not,  escapes  it  by  an  exodus,  as  of  his  importance,  inde- 
pendence, and   undisputed  sovereignty   in   the  interior  of  the 
home.      He  is  a  monarch    reverenced   in    his  own   kingdom, 
almost  a  monarch   by  divine  right.     Compared  with  him  the 
Frenchman  seems    like    the    President    elected    by   a    critical 
Parliament.     Picture  them    both   on   the   eve  of  engaging  in 
a  hazardous  enterprise.     The  Frenchman  is  first  of  all  obliged 
to  use  up  some  of  his  force  in  order  to  win  over  his  wife  and 
adult  sons  to  the  project,  and  overcome  the  persistent  opposition 
he  encounters  every  evening  at  his  fireside.     The  French  wife 
has  a  clear  head,  reasoning  powers  and  courage  of  her  own. 
Her  husband  finds  in  her  a  judicious  coinisellor,  sometimes  no 
mean  critic,  often  a  sensible  colleague,  but  seldom  the  moral 
comfort  of  complete  agreement.     Too  often  he  is  discouraged, 
or  else  time  goes  by  and  the  opportunity  is  lost.     If  he  persists, 
he  does  not  feel  that  there  is  behind  him  a  safe  retreat  in  case 
of  rebuff,  a  place  where   he  can  recover'himself  with  a  com- 
panion who  blindly  believes  in  him,  and  will  give  him  back  his 
faith  in  himself.     The  stability  of  his  resolutions,  the  sureness 
of  his   hand   are  profoundly    affected.     The   tlnglishman   en- 
counters neither  opposition  nor  resistance  in   his  liome.     His 
wishes  are  undisputed.     His  sons,  if  present,  respect  them  j  if 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE   STATE    219 

absent,  ignore  them.  His  wife  associates  herself  with  liim. 
He  feels  himself  approved  and  followed,  though  it  may  be  a 
little  passively.  In  this  clearly  recognised  authority,  complete 
autonomy,  and  high  responsibility  there  is  the  principle  of  an 
unusual  force,  importance,  and  energy.  The  family  who  have 
accustomed  the  English  child  to  discipline,  and  habituated  him 
when  adolescent  to  liberty  and  responsibility,  form  him  in 
the  role  of  father  and  husband  to  take  the  initiative  and  to 
command. 

The  laws  of  succession  and  testamentation  in  England  have 
effects  which  are  felt  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  home.  We 
have  seen  that  under  the  terms  of  the  law  the  sons  are  not 
secure  of  any  part  in  the  paternal  inheritance.  This  un- 
certainty accustoms  them  to  the  idea  that  man  must  count 
only  on  himself;  it  develops  virile  qualities  in  them.  Testa- 
mentary liberty,  if  Nature  were  not  occasionally  rebellious, 
should  produce  as  many  distinguished  men  as  there  are  sons. 
In  large  families  of  great  wealth  the  law  of  entail  has  virtually 
restored  the  privileges  of  the  eldest  son.  Every  year  the 
younger  sons  of  the  family,  with  the  advantage  of  a  good 
education  but  no  fortune,  go  forth  from  the  home  which  can 
no  longer  shelter  them.  They  go  to  seek  wealth  in  Canada, 
Australia,  and  at  the  Cape.  Their  presence  helps  to  raise  or 
maintain  the  moral  tone  of  the  more  or  less  mixed  and  doubtful 
society  in  such  places.  In  other  countries  they  would  live  in 
bare  competence  on  their  share  of  the  paternal  inheritance  ;  in 
England  they  receive  but  a  meagre  pittance,  and  feel  the 
necessity  of  creating  an  inheritance  for  themselves  by  their 
own  industry.  They  expend  themselves  in  enormous  efforts, 
which  are  generally  crowned  with  success.  They,  in  their 
turn,   found  a  family   in   which   they   reign   supreme. 

While  the  younger  sons  are  thus  furnishing  recruits  for 
every  hazardous  enterprise,  conscious  of  more  advantage 
accruing  to  them  through  their  connection  with  a  great 
house  than  a  more  considerable  share  of  the  paternal  inheri- 


220  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

tance  would  afford  them,  the  heir  elect  remains  in  the  home 
of  his  fathers.  The  testamentary  liberty  does  not  affect  him 
less  profoundly  than  his  brothers.  Completed  by  the  law  of 
entail,  it  concentrates  in  the  hands  of  a  single  individual,  from 
one  generation  to  another,  an  increasing  and  accumulating 
inheritance,  the  revenues  of  which  exceed  the  ordinary  limits 
of  individual  power  of  enjoyment.  The  heart  of  the  possessor 
succumbs  to  the  attraction  of  power  exercised  for  good,  and 
becomes  ennobled  by  the  idea  of  a  social  mission.  Thanks  to 
this  same  liberty,  the  citizen  can  pass  the  limits  of  his  own  life 
in  his  benevolent  ambitions ;  in  fact,  he  can  endow  useful 
institutions  to  perpetuity  without  rendering  them  liable  to  a 
reduction  or  inopportune  withdrawal  of  his  bequest.  In  the 
same  way  the  pretorian  expedient  of  trusts  enables  him  to 
constitute  social  bodies  having  a  quasi-civil  ctiaracter  of 
indefinite  duration.  Trusts  complete  his  ability  to  include 
the  future  by  making  it  one  with  the  past,  and  thus  he  is 
encouraged  to  conceive  great  designs.  Finally,  the  liberties  of 
the  Press,  assemblage,  association,  and  even  federation  give  him 
the  means  of  extending  the  circumference  of  his  field  of  action 
in  the  same  way  as  he  has  extended  it  from  the  point  of  view 
of  duration,  including  in  his  sphere  of  operation  the  whole 
territory  of  the  United  Kingdom,  and  sometimes  even  of  the 
whole  world,  as  in  the  case  of  great  missionary  societies. 
All  these  are  reasons  why  human  personality  in  England  is 
unusually  ample,  vigorous,  and  hardy.  In  no  other  country 
does  the  individual  appear  to  be  better  endowed  and  equipped, 
whether  for  resisting  the  State  and  keeping  a  check  upon  it,  or 
for  supplying  its  deficiencies,  and  participating  to  a  considerable 
extent  in  its  work. 

5. — Property. 

Wealth  is  an  instrument  of  power,  security,  and  liberty  to 
the  Individual.  The  English  territory  abundantly  furnishes 
the  raw  material  which   incessant  labour   fashions  and  trans- 


THE  INDIVIDUAL    AND    THE   STATE     221 

forms.  There  is  no  country  where,  in  the  same  degree  and 
within  the  same  narrow  limits,  a  very  healthy  climate,  fertile 
soil,  adapted  both  for  corn  and  pasture,  and  an  unusually  rich, 
varied,  and  deep  mineral  subsoil,  are  to  be  found  in  conjunction. 
Tin,  iron,  and  coal  are  piled  in  layers  of  prodigious  thickness 
and  expansion.  Coal,  which  is  used  in  all  the  manufactories, 
is  everywhere  within  reach.  It  has  been  calculated  that  the 
yield  of  the  coal  mines  alone,  expressed  in  human  labour, 
reaches  the  same  figure  as  the  production  of  a  population 
covering  forty-four  and  a  half  millions  of  acres.  It  is  almost 
as  if  every  inhabitant  of  the  United  Kingdom  were  provided 
with  a  slave  labouring  solely  for  his  master's  benefit.  More- 
over, England,  by  her  geographical  position  in  relation  to  the 
New  World,  Europe  and  the  great  ocean  currents,  and  by  the 
expansion  and  indentation  of  her  coasts,  seems  preordained  to 
become  the  mart  of  universal  commerce.  The  activity  of  the 
natives  has  therefore  at  hand  a  material  all  ready  to  be  turned 
to  account  j  a  never-failing  spring  of  opulence  from  which 
every  individual  may  draw,  and  many  have  drawn,  with 
eagerness. 

I  have  previously  shown,  and  will  endeavour  to  make  it 
still  clearer,  that  in  the  last  two  centuries  the  interval  between 
one  cbss  and  another  has  sensibly  increased,  and  a  gulf  opened 
between  their  conditions  and  fortunes.  This  inequality  has  a 
profound  effect  upon  the  character  of  the  citizen,  on  the  means 
he  has  at  his  disposal,  and  consequently  on  the  attitude  he  is 
led  to  adopt  in  regard  to  the  State.  In  a  country  where  some 
have  nothing  to  lose,  and  others  arc  so  superfluously  endowed 
that  they  can  risk  a  great  deal  without  any  fear  that  their 
habits  may  be  disarranged  or  their  welfare  affected,  the  spirit  of 
initiative  is  far  more  general,  and  venturesome  enterprises  more 
numerous,  than  can  be  the  case  where  riches  are  more  equallv 
divided.  England  has  shown  herself  excellently  apt  at  com- 
merce, speculation,  colonisation,  and  the  emigration  of  both 
rich   and   poor.     This  superior  aptitude  proceeded  originally 


222  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

from  historical  causes,  but  it  has  undoubtedly  been  confirmed 
and  developed  by  the  outrageously  disproportionate  distribution 
of  this  world's  goods.  From  this  point  of  view  it  is  a  favour- 
able circumstance  that  the  preponderant  element  in  society, 
that  which  gives  tone  to  its  character,  is  not  based  on  those 
average  fortunes  which  encourage  people  to  be  content  with 
little,  to  live  on  what  they  have,  to  grow  rich  by  daily  saving, 
and  not  to  desert  the  certain  for  the  uncertain. 

In  addition  to  this,  man  is  inclined  to  conceive  and  propose 
to  himself  ends  in  proportion  to  the  greatness  of  the  means  he 
has  at  his  disposal.  Individuals,  who  command  revenues 
comparable  to  those  of  a  little  State,  acquire  a  quasi-royal 
sense  of  their  omnipotence  and  social  duties,  and  willingly 
undertake  works  of  a  public  character  and  interest.  In  other 
countries  such  works  have  to  be  left  to  the  charge  of  the 
general  budget,  in  default  of  volunteers.  In  England  there 
are  those  who  voluntarily  dispute  them  with  the  authorities, 
and  take  advantage  of  the  procrastination  of  the  latter  to  be 
beforehand  with  them.  The  activity  and  power  of  interven- 
tion of  the  State  are  circumscribed  by  the  alacrity  of  these 
auxiliaries  or  competitors,  who  offer  or  force  themselves  upon 
it.  We  call  to  mind  the  immense  canal  constructed  at  the 
end  of  the  last  century  by  the  care  and  at  the  expense  of  the 
Duke  of  Bridge  water.  In  France,  for  such  a  work,  even  in 
the  present  day,  it  would  be  necessary  to  attack  the  Chambers 
and  the  general  Councils  interested,  promote  a  law,  form  a 
company,  and  put  the  bureaucracy  and  the  department  of  the 
Ponts-et-Chauss6es  in  motion.  In  England,  the  initiative  and 
power  of  a  single  man  are  sufficient  for  the  task. 

One  of  the  most  characteristic  signs  of  this  economic 
condition  is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  commercial  legisla- 
tion. France,  country  of  small  patrimonies,  was,  at  an  early 
date,  compelled  to  organise,  even  for  modest  enterprises,  the 
association  of  capital  with  limited  liability.  Besides  the  joint 
stock  companies,  a   form   indispensable  in   great   transactions, 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE   STATE     223 

and  known  even  under  the  old  regime  by  the  name  of  chartered 
companies,  she  has  authorised,  since  1807,  the  limited  liability- 
company.  England  also,  at  an  early  date,  legalised  the  joint 
stock  company  for  enterprises  of  exceptional  importance,  but 
did  not  favour  companies  of  limited  liability.  During  the 
first  half  of  the  century  she  continued  to  recognise  for  ordinary 
transactions  only  those  companies  in  which  each  shareholder 
accepted  the  entire  burden  of  unfortunate  speculation  or  bad 
management.  With  the  exception  of  railways,  nearly  all  the 
manufacturing  companies  and  all  the  banking  companies  were 
composed  of  very  large  shareholders,  sufficiently  few  in  number 
to  know  each  other  well,  and  to  arrive  at  a  mutual  under- 
standing ;  sufficiently  well  informed  to  be  able  to  keep  a  close 
watch  on  the  conduct  of  business  ;  and,  for  these  two  reasons, 
having  no  thought  nor  wish  to  avoid  an  unlimited  and  joint 
liability.  The  limited  liability  company  is  suited  to  people 
with  small  means,  who,  occupied  with  their  own  affairs,  and 
incapable,  even  if  they  wished  it,  of  having  a  voice  in  the 
management,  comfort  themselves  with  the  thought  that  they 
have  risked  little,  and  only  pledged  themselves  to  what  they 
can  afford  to  lose.  The  great  English  capitalists  did  not 
require  the  same  security  as  these  ignorant  and  pusillanimous 
gamblers.  They  rejected  it  as  likely  to  bring  discredit  on 
their  enterprises.  Even  after  1862,  when  the  law  allowed  the 
free  formation  of  joint-stock  companies  with  limited  liability, 
the  unlimited  liability  companies  were  still  numerous,  the 
banks,  in  particular,  were  mostly  in  this  position,  and  it  was 
only  in  1879,  consequent  on  a  disastrous  failure,  that  they 
solicited  facilities  for  applying  the  new  regime  to  themselves.^ 

'  An  excellent  little  book,  The  Money  Market,  characterises  their  attitude 
and  claims  as  follows  .- — "  The  great  capitalists,  with  few  exceptions,  are 
leagued  against  the  principle  of  association  of  capital  and  limited 
liability."  When  unlimited  liability  was  the  only  legal  company  system, 
none  but  the  richest  men  could  embark  in  great  enterprises,  the  result 
being  that  the  great  houses  became  greater,  and  the  rich  richer,  which  led 
to  the  gradual  elimination  of  the  middle  classes  of  commerce.     In  fact, 


224  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

About  this  time  little  groups  of  financiers  began  to  grow  up, 
more  powerful  and  concentrated  than  had  hitherto  been 
known,  forming  an  elite  of  capitalists,  backed  by  immense 
resources,  equipped  for  great  undertakings,  and  prepared  for 
heavy  responsibilities — worthy  rivals  of  the  State. 

The  enormous  difference  in  social  conditions  enabled  many 
to  enter  into  competition  with  the  public  authorities,  restricting 
their  power  of  action  on  the  one  hand,  but,  on  the  other, 
obliging  them  to  intervene  as  arbitrators  and  redressers  of 
wrongs.  Inequality  in  England  is,  indeed,  in  the  force  of 
things  ;  I  have  shown  how  it  originated  in  the  extraordinarily 
active  temperament  of  the  race.  Everywhere  throughout  the 
country  equality  is,  as  it  were,  against  nature,  and  if  an 
attempt  is  made  to  restore  it,  it  tends  to  self-destruction  more 
rapidly  than  would  be  the  case  elsewhere.  In  other  words,  if 
ever  the  English  democracy,  assuming  control  of  its  own 
destiny,  is  to  undertake  to  correct  so  profoundly  natural  a 
disorder  by  means  of  the  legislator,  and  to  establish  artificially 
a  more  equitable  distribution, ^  it  must  have  a  Socialism  more 

mercantile  transactions  became  so  colossal  that  these  latter  classes  were 
in  danger  of  being  absolutely  exterminated.  It  was  at  this  moment  that 
the  joint-stock  principle  came  to  their  aid.  It  is  significant  that  the 
manufacturers  and  traders  should  so  long  have  accepted  without  com- 
plaint a  code  of  regulations  framed  for  the  convenience  of  a  financial 
oligarchy,  and  that  they  should  have  so  marvellously  prospered  under  a 
system  which  inferred  a  very  large  fund  of  fearlessness  and  spirit  of 
adventure. 

'  It  appears,  however,  that  for  some  years  past  the  inequality  of  fortune 
has  been  gradually  diminishing.  According  to  a  communication  from 
Mr.  Goschen  to  the  Statistical  Society  (December,  1887),  the  large  and 
small  incomes  have  diminished  in  number,  to  the  advantage  of  the 
average  income.  From  the  figures  furnished  by  several  large  companies 
it  may  be  seen  that  whilst  their  realised  capital  increased  25  per  cent,  in 
ten  years,  the  number  of  shareholders  increased  72  per  cent.,  so  that  the 
average  value  of  the  shares  fell  from  ^^443  to  £323.  Similarly,  the 
average  value  of  the  insurance  policies  fell  from  ;^492  to  £466.  The 
incomes  between  ^150  and  ^1,000  increased  in  number,  while  those 
above  ;f  1,000  decreased.  Mr.  Giffen,  on  his  side,  is  known  to  have 
arrived  at  a  similar  conclusion.     Such  an  evolution  could  certainly  not 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     225 

decided  in  its  aims,  more  powerful  in  its  methods,  and  more 
constant  in  its  operations  than  is  to  be  found  among  other 
nations.  The  importance  of  this  deduction  cannot  be  estimated 
unless  a  distinction  is  made  between  the  various  kinds  of 
wealth.  There  is  not  only  a  difference,  greater  than  is  usually 
the  case,  between  opulence  and  poverty,  but  between  the  two 
great  classes  of  property,  personal  and  landed,  there  is  a 
difference  from  the  legal  point  of  view  which  is  unknown  to 
us,  at  least,  in  the  same  degree.  The  Roman  and  French 
idea  of  inheritance,  which  made  no  distinction  between  the 
various  kinds  of  property,  has  no  part  in  English  law.  In 
every  estate  there  are  certain  regulations  for  landed  property, 
and  others  for  personal  property.  These  two  are  quite 
distinct,  and  the  first  has  the  chief  consideration  of  the  law. 
A  succession  is  opened  ah  intestat :  the  conditions  are  not  the 
same  for  the  land,  and  the  money  or  investments.  The  land 
always  goes  to  the  eldest ;  the  money  and  the  shares  are 
divided.  For  every  succession,  even  testamentary,  the  public 
treasury  until  quite  lately  used  two  different  systems  of  weights 
and  measures,  and  the  balance  was  all  in  favour  of  the  land  ; 
in  fact,  up  to  1853,  nothing  had  to  be  paid  on  it,  and  after- 
wards only  a  third  of  the  amount  paid  on  personal  property. 

proceed  from  a  single  cause.  It  might  be  partly  due  to  the  measures  of 
protection  and  regulation,  already  more  or  less  socialistic  in  character, 
which  the  Icgislatcjr  had  been  prodigal  of  for  some  years  past,  on  behalf 
of  the  hitherto  cruelly  neglected  working  classes.  A  hand  was  held  out 
to  the  working  man  ;  he  received  new  facilities  for  the  protection  of  his 
interests  and  the  alleviation  of  his  miserable  condition,  which  led  to  a 
marked  rise  in  small  incomes.  The  same  evolution,  in  so  far  as  it  affected 
the  decrease  of  large  incomes,  might  result  from  the  actual  crisis,  which 
weighed  more  heavily  on  the  proprietors  and  the  capitalists  than  on  the 
wage-earners.  The  increase  in  the  number  of  limited  liability  companies 
betrayed  a  people  who  intended  to  limit  their  risks  more  and  more,  and 
regarded  the  shares  they  took  in  a  concern  as  so  many  lottery  tickets. 
Finally,  the  rapid  increase  in  the  number  of  branches  of  the  savings 
banks  furnishes  an  equally  significant  sign  in  the  same  direction.  But 
the  inherent  character  of  the  nation  is  too  strong  to  yield  without 
resistance  to  the  effect  of  these  comparatively  ephemeral  causes. 


226  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

It  was  not  until  1894  that  the  successions  to  landed  property 
and  personal  property  were  assimilated,  and  both  became  equally 
responsible  to  the  public  treasury.  Even  then  there  existed 
a  difference  between  them,  a  survival  of  the  obsolete  past,  viz., 
that  the  landed  part  of  each  estate  should  be  treated  as  a 
usufruct  for  life,  and  enjoy  a  delay  of  from  four  to  eight  years 
before  it  is  completely  free  ;  we  have  nothing  similar  in 
France.  Need  I  recall  the  civil  privileges  which  protected 
the  land  against  the  plea  of  the  creditor,  the  economic 
privileges  which  burdened  with  a  premium  on  the  profit  of  its 
products,  the  products  of  every  other  industry,  the  political 
privileges  which  conferred  on  those  who  enjoyed  them  almost 
arbitrary  powers  of  administration  and  policy  in  the  provinces  ? 
Even  in  the  present  day,  and  under  the  democratic  law  ot 
1 88 1,  is  it  not  remarkable  that  the  right  of  suffrage  rests 
solely  on  the  possession  and  occupation  of  land  or  house,  and 
that  personal  property,  were  it  even  that  of  a  Rothschild, 
cannot  entitle  a  man  to  be  an  elector? 

Personal  property  is  unlimited  ;  the  inequality  of  fortunes 
composed  of  personal  property  therefore,  causes  only  moderate 
grievances.  The  share  that  falls  to  the  jot  of  the  favoured 
does  not  debar  others  from  the  attainment  of  equals  possessions. 
Landed  property,  on  the.  contrary,  is  limited  in  accordance 
with  the  land  that  may  be  turned  to  account.  The  share  that 
falls  to  the  lot  of  the  few  cannot  be  overmuch  increased 
without  depriving  others  of  their  heritage,  and  creating  a 
monopoly  which  is  certain  to  excite  hatred.  The  losers 
instinctively  seek  for  some  one  to  redress  their  wrongs  ;  they 
find,  willingly  recognise,  and  soon  call  to  their  aid,  the  State 
and  the  law.  This  is  what  has  come  to  pass  in  England. 
During  the  whole  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  class  of  great 
rural  proprietors,  known  by  the  collective  title  of  the  gentry, 
set  themselves  systematically  to  work  to  acquire  all  the  arable 
land.  At  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  there  were  still 
a   large    number  of   small    proprietors,    harassed,  vexed    in  a 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE  STATE     227 

thousand  ways,  tempted  by  advantageous  offers,  finally  sold 
their  land,  and  the  boundary  was  removed  between  their 
domains  and  the  latifundia^  already  extended  by  the  division  of 
the  pasture  land.  The  cultivation  of  these  large  territories,  in 
the  same  way,  was  acquired  by  a  i^^N  proprietors,  and  the  little 
farms  disappeared.  The  ruined  farm  buildings  may  still  be 
seen  here  and  there,  in  cases  where  they  were  not  razed  to  the 
ground.  The  humble  tenants  of  former  years  were  compelled 
to  go  forth  like  bands  of  emigrants,  and  their  places  were  filled 
by  a  few  great  capitalist  farmers.  The  agricultural  labourers 
followed  them.  Pasturage  and  flocks  to  a  large  extent  replaced 
the  cornfields,  which  meant  a  great  economy  of  manual 
labour,  and  led  to  the  exodus  of  a  whole  population  of 
agricultural  labourers.  The  latifundla^  cleared  of  men,  with 
here  and  there  a  lonely  building  standing  out  against  the 
horizon,  gave  an  impression  of  solitude  and  silence.  The 
ownership  of  land,  thus  concentrated,  had  the  detestable 
character  of  a  monopoly,  and  received  the  even  more  sus- 
picious character  of  a  mortmain  from  the  custom  of  legal  entails. 
The  settlements  usual  in  all  great  families  assured  the  integral 
transmission  of  the  patrimonial  domain  from  generation  to 
generation.  Two-thirds  of  the  soil  were  thus  debarred  from 
commerce. 

In  the  face  of  so  many  abuses  we  cannot  be  surprised  that 
the  law  and  the  State  were  called  upon  to  intervene  and 
redress  the  grievances  caused  by  existing  institutions  and 
customs.  A  number  of  settled  estate  Acts  furnished  a  remedy 
for  the  anti-economic  omnipotence  of  those  who  owned  land 
under  settlements  by  authorising  the  heir  of  entail,  with  the 
acquiescence  of  the  Lord  High  Chancellor,  to  perform  all  the 
acts  necessary  for  conservation  ;  in  particular  to  sell  one  part 
of  the  property  in  order  to  obtain  funds  for  the  improvement 
of  the  other,  to  consent  to  leases  longer  in  point  of  time  than 
his  own  possession,  and  even  to  part  with  the  land  entirely. 
The  tenant  in  tail  is  now  as  free  as  any  tenant  in  fee  simple 


228  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

whatsoever  ;    further,  a  Conservative   Lord    High  Chancellor 
could  suggest,  without  creating  any  sensation,  the  abolition  of 
the  right  of  primogeniture,  and    the  prohibition  of  all  settle- 
ments   for    the    future.      In   Ireland,  the  system  followed    in 
Ulster  has   been  taken    up   by  the  whole    country,  and   dual 
ownership,  a  result  of  it,  has  served  as  a  starting-point  for  the 
three    F.'s— free-sale,  which    allows    the    farmer    to   sell    his 
interest  in  the  property  when  he  wishes  ;  fair  rent  ;  and  fixity 
of  tenure — which  aim  a  formidable  blow  at  liberty  of  agree- 
ment by  substituting  the  decision  of  a  committee  of  arbitrators 
for  the   free-will    of   the    proprietor.      Further,  an   universal 
expropriation  of  the  real  owners  has  been  undertaken  by  the 
State,  which   supplies   the  funds  to  the  farmers  who  wish  to 
become   purchasers,  demanding   reimbursement   only  by  small 
and  deferred  payments,   covering  the  original   sum  advanced 
and  interest  on   the  same.     Very  much   the  same   thing  has 
been   done  in  Scotland  for    the   benefit    of   the   crofters.     In 
England,  protective  laws  give  the  farmer  right  to  rid  himself  of 
game  which  damages  his  property  ;  and  other  laws  guarantee 
him,  in  case  of  eviction  or  retirement,  compensation  for  any 
permanent    improvements    he    may   have    made,    at    his    own 
expense,  in  the  land  he  has  cultivated.      Finally,  quite  recently, 
the  statutes  of  1 888-1 892-1 894  granted  generally  to  County 
Councils  extended  rights  of  expropriation  which  they  must  put 
ijito   force   in  order  to  institute,   for  the   benefit  of  the  poor, 
either  recreation  grounds  or  small  dwelling-houses.     In   such 
cases  the  State,  through  the  medium  of  the  county,  intervenes 
as    a    benevolent   lender  who,   by    agreeing    to    long-deferred 
payments,  reduces  the  sums  owing  by  the  farmer  who  borrows 
from  him  to  a   minimum.     It  is  noteworthy  that   the  larger 
number    of    these     reforms    strike    at    the    very    principle    of 
prcjperty  ;  they  deny  the  landlord  his  right  to  use  and  abuse, 
refuse  him  liberty  to  regulate  the  condition  of  his  land  by  free 
contract,  and  even  grant  the  tenant  indemnities  for  improve- 
ments he  may  have  made  unknown   to  or  against  the  wish  of 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     229 

the  proprietor.  Finally,  they  furnish  some  sort  of  extenuating 
circumstances  for  the  economic  position  of  the  land,  resulting 
from  the  small  number  of  those  who  hold  it  ;  and,  as  a  kind 
of  excuse  and  commencement  of  reparation,  offer  the  right  of 
expropriation,  which  is  made  dependent  on  three  elective 
committees  nominated  by  practically  universal  suffrage,  i.e.^ 
composed  chiefly  of  non-proprietors.  All  this  is  an  indication 
of  disquiet  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  a  sort  of  uneasiness  in 
their  consciences  ;  it  is  a  state  of  things  which  cannot 
endure. 

6. — Groups  :   the  Race. 

The  family  is  not  the  only  group  in  which  the  activity  of 
the  individual  is  employed  and  concentrated,  and  finds  a  point 
of  support  against  the  State.  His  activity  also  finds  vent  in 
other  natural  and  more  extended  groups.  I  call  them  natural 
because  they  belong  to  those  which  "  the  Jaw  finds  and  does 
not  create."  They  are  in  fact  organised  by  individuals  ;  but 
they  proceed  from  necessities  superior  to  individual  wills,  and 
all  the  power  of  governments  cannot  prevent  them  from  run- 
ning their  course.  Local,  provincial  and  national  groups  merit 
separate  study  ;  but  space  fails  me  in  this  work  and  I  will  limit 
myself  to  considering  the  race,  the  various  classes  of  society, 
and  the  religious  sects.  The  two  latter  groups  interest  us  in 
two  ways,  by  their  relation  to  the  State,  and  their  effect  on 
the  individual.  The  State  is  compelled  to  regard  them  as 
organised  and  independent  forces,  capable  of  energetic  and 
deliberate  opposition.  It  is  obliged  to  reckon  with  them  ;  they 
dictate  to  it,  limit,  constrain,  or  second  it,  or  supply  its 
deficiencies.  On  the  other  hand,  man  finds  in  them  a  sphere 
of  collective  life  other  than  that  of  public  life  ;  he  acquires 
the  sentiment  of  duties  other  than  those  of  the  subject  and  the 
citizen  ;  he  becomes  inspired  by  other  impersonal  aims,  all  of 
which  are  so  many  powers  and  forces,  titles  and  arguments, 
against  the  claims  of  the  State.      These  groups  may  become 


230  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  agents  of  tyranny  ;  each  of  them  is  strong  enough  to 
influence  the  public  authorities  and  dictate  the  law.  So  long 
as  they  maintain  an  equilibrium  amongst  themselves  they  are 
doubly  the  agents  of  liberty  ;  they  form  material  and  moral 
centres  of  opposition  and  hold  the  central  authority  in  check. 
They  inspire  man  with  noble  passions,  and  he  refuses  to  be 
coerced  by  the  injunctions  of  State  policy. 

Above  these  two  groups  is  a  third,  more  comprehensive 
than  the  nation  itself,  "u/z.,  the  race.  England  is  not  only  a 
nation  and  an  empire,  it  is  an  ethnical  quantity^  composed  of 
distinct  aggregrates,  scattered  over  every  continent,  divided  by 
institutions,  separated  by  interests,  yet  bound  together  by  unity 
of  origin,  identity  of  blood  and  language  and  by  a  common 
fund  of  ideas  and  tendencies.  Such  in  former  days  were  the 
United  States,  and  such  to-day  are  Canada,  the  Cape  and 
Australia.  The  Frenchman  seeking  air  and  liberty  encounters 
in  his  country's  rare  colonies  the  same  Government,  even 
more  arbitrary  in  its  methods,  that  he  desired  to  escape  ;  and 
if  he  goes  further  afield  he  is  chilled  by  the  cold  of  a  vast 
world  where  the  oui  is  never  heard.  The  Englishman  of  the 
United  Kingdom,  who  does  not  find  his  position  to  his  taste 
or  is  not  satisfied  with  the  political  regime^  has  a  second  and 
larger  country,  the  different  provinces  of  which  offer  him  every 
degree  of  free  government  and  the  most  varied  economic  con- 
ditions. He  can  leave  British  soil,  and  settle  in  numberless 
places  in  the  two  hemispheres,  without  ever  feeling  that  he  is 
a  foreigner  among  his  new  fellow-citizens.  This  ability  to 
steal  away  and  escape,  peculiar  to  countries  which  have 
colonies  peopled  by  autonomous  populations,  assists  the  vigorous 
development  of  a  feeling  of  individual  independence.  It 
reconstitutes,  as  it  were,  between  each  citizen  and  his  govern- 
ment the  conditions  antecedent  to  the  free  social  contract. 
The  political  regime  is  not  imposed,  but  proposed.  Each  man 
has  the  right  to  adhere  to  or  reject  it,  for  other  forms  of  govern- 
ment are  within  reach.     Political  conditions  of  another  type  are 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND   THE   STATE     231 

open  to  him  in  countries  where  he  will  have  no  need  to  feel 
that  he  is  a  stranger.  In  England,  therefore,  we  shall  not 
encounter  the  habit  of  resigned  submission,  peculiar  to  countries 
which  the  dissatisfied  citizen  rarely  leaves,  because  by  leaving 
he  would  have  to  face  an  unknown,  or  at  least  a  foreign  land. 
The  very  diffusion  of  the  race  is  a  guarantee  of  liberty. 

7. — The  Classes. 

I  have  related  elsewhere  ^  the  history  of  the  classes  in 
England.  I  will  not  take  it  up  again  in  this  work,  but 
only  add  a  few  remarks  bearing  directly  on  my  subject. 

First,  the  English  government  has,  as  an  essential  charac- 
teristic, an  oscillation  which  places  the  supreme  authority 
alternately  in  the  hands  of  two  opposing  political  parties.  If 
one  of  these  parties  simply  represented  a  certain  class  that 
class  would  have  an  opportunity  of  freely  furthering  its  interests 
in  the  legislation  and  administration,  and  an  oppressive  system 
of  government  would  ensue.  Happily  for  the  English,  the 
parties,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel,  have  a  past,  regard 
for  which  is  a  bond  between  their  members,  and  the  tra- 
dition of  which,  handed  down,  has  attached  certain  families  and 
localities  to  one  cause  from  time  immemorial,  and  united  them 
against  the  opposing  cause,  independently  of  any  present 
utility.  The  stratification  of  the  parties  is  largely  historic, 
whilst  the  stratification  of  the  classes  is  essentially  economic. 
There  may  have  been  from  time  to  time  an  approximative 
correspondence  of  the  divisions  between  the  superposed  strata  ; 
there  has  never  been  continuity  or  combination.  In  this  way 
the  prestige  of  history  and  veneration  for  the  past  have  acted, 
and  continue  to  act  as  safeguards  of  individual  liberty. 

But  it  is  not  probable  that  the  distinction  between  the 
political  parties  and   the  social  classes  can   be    maintained    ^n 

'  See  Lc  Dcvcloppanciit  dc  la  Constitution  ct  dc  la  Socictc  politique  en 
A  u'^lctcrrc. 


232  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

contemporary  society.  The  classes  are  gradually  becoming 
transformed  into  parties.  In  the  struggle  for  existence,  every 
day  more  violent,  present  interests  create  affinities  which 
outweigh  all  others,  and  historic  bonds  become  unloosed  at  the 
smallest  pressure.  Political  society  in  the  present  day  is  like  a 
heterogeneous  and  moving  mass,  divided  into  blocks  which  con- 
tinually knock  one  against  the  other.  At  the  beginning  of 
modern  times  the  social  classes  so  nearly  encroached  one  upon 
the  other,  the  barrier  between  them  was  so  low  and  easy  to 
surmount,  that  they  might  have  been  considered  for  the  moment 
as  a  single  class  with  interior  subdivisions.  I  have  shown  how 
the  smooth  ascent  which,  beginning  at  the  humblest,  does  not 
stop  until  it  arrives  at  the  highest  dignity,  was  interrupted  in 
the  eighteenth  century  by  the  immense  expansion  of  industry, 
and  how  the  commercial  disorder  was  aggravated  by  the 
enterprises  of  the  landed  aristocracy.  A  gulf  has  opened 
between  the  great  proprietor  and  the  farmer,  between  the 
farmer  and  the  labourer,  between  the  master  and  the  workman, 
between  the  rich  manufacturer  and  the  wealthy  owner  of  the 
soil.  The  opposition  and  strife  among  the  different  classes 
have  usually  resulted  in  an  appeal  to  the  State,  which  is  the 
natural  arbitrator  of  conflicting  claims,  or  a  pressure  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  State  making  it  an  instrument  for  power  and 
profit.  Each  class  now  attempts  to  make  use  of  the  law  to 
protect  itself,  to  fortify  its  position,  to  trouble  or  weaken  its 
adversaries  and  to  offer  to  neutrals  the  inducement  of  certain 
advantages,  thereby  lulling  their  grievances  or  assuring  their 
alliance.  The  historical  parties  still  exist,  but  they  have 
become  mere  playthings  ;  the  flatterers  and  instruments  of  the 
passions  of  each  class.  They  yield  themselves  up  to  the  law, 
and  naturally  liberty  has  to  pay  the  cost  of  such  collusion. 
The  bulk,  the  force,  the  evolution  and  the  tendencies  of  each 
class  are  therefore  of  great  importance  to  the  future  of  British 
liberty.     We  will  endeavour  to  characterise  them  briefly. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND   THE   STATE     233 

A. —  TJie  Gentry. 

Looking  at  it  from  a  distance,  English  society  appears  to  be 
divided  into  two  distinct  "nations" — the  rural  and  the  manu- 
facturing. At  the  head  of  the  first  are  the  gentry,  i.e.^  the 
class  of  great  landed  proprietors.  The  influence  of  this 
intelligent,  enlightened  and  educated  class  enormously  increased 
during  the  whole  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  up  to  1H32. 
I  have  shown  I  these  150,000  gentlemen,  shut  up  in  their 
indivisible  latifund'ui^  and  masters  of  the  whole  rural  district. 2 
The  civil  law  confirmed  their  position  ;  no  tax  was  laid  upon 
them  by  the  public  treasury  ;  the  statutes  relating  to  excise 
and  customs  protected  the  products  of  their  land  against  com- 
petition. It  seemedas  if  the  word  "  land  "  had  a  peculiar  virtue 
of  its  own  which  carried  with  it  certain  privileges.  Elsewhere, 
such  privileges  are  conferred  by  birth  ;  here,  the  land  secures 
them,  and,  as  it  were,  drops  them  into  the  hand  of  the  legis- 
lator. To  get  a  complete  idea  of  that  personage,  the  squire, 
(gentleman  proprietor),  we  must  consider  him  in  his  relations, 
not  only  to  things,  but  also  to  the  men  who  surround  him. 
Every  one,  without  exception,  is  dependent  upon  him — the 
clergyman,  who  in  one  case  out  of  two  is  chosen  by  him  ;  the 
farmer,  to  whom  he  can  give  six  months'  notice  ;  and  the 
agricultural  labourer,  whom  he  houses  by  the  week.  He  has 
still  further  power  over  these  men  by  right  of  his  administrative 
and  judicial  authority.  In  the  county  he  exercises  part  at 
least  of  the  powers  we  divide  between  the  conseil  de  prefecture, 
the  recteur,  the  ingenicur  des  Ponts-et-Chaussdes,  &c.  He 
also  exercises  those  of  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  examining  magis- 
trate, commissary  of  police  and  preliminary  court  of  justice. 
Whether  it  be  alone,  at  the  Petty  Sessions,  the  Special  Sessions, 

'  In  1877,  37,409  possessed  twenty-five  millions  of  acres  out  of  thirty 
millions. 

See  Lc  DcvcloppcDwiit  dc  la  Constitution  ct  dc  la  Socictc  politique  en 
Anglctenc,  i  vol.,  Librairie  Armand  Colin. 


234  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

or  the  Quarter  Sessions,  he  is  always  to  be  found  on  the  Bench, 
deciding  the  different  cases,  and  discharging  the  duties  of  his 
high  position.  His  jurisdiction  has  not  been  controlled  by  any 
superior  instance  since  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
neither  has  it  been  subjected  to  the  writ  of  certiorari  by  which 
important  questions  are  called  up  before  the  Courts  of  West- 
minster. The  methods  of  summary  justice  have  been 
gradually  introduced  into  the  cases  submitted  to  him,  and  in 
the  same  proportion  those  whom  he  judges  have  had  their  pro- 
tection withdrawn.  Nevertheless,  in  most  cases  it  is  enough 
for  him  to  allege  his  good  faith  in  order  to  avoid  repression, 
and  all  action  against  him  is  suspended  for  six  months. 

A  crowning  act,  which  w^as  being  led  up  to  during  the 
whole  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  part  of  the  nineteenth, 
made  him  absolute  master  of  those  surrounding  him.  Legis- 
lation under  Elizabeth  had  placed  parish  autonomy  upon  a 
firm  footing  ;  legislation  in  the  eighteenth  century  took  an 
opposite  course  to  that  of  the  preceding  century  ;  and  the 
parish  magistrates  were  deprived  of  their  prerogatives,  which 
were  transferred  to  the  justices  of  the  peace.  These  justices 
determined  the  assessment  of  the  poor-rate  and  the  distribution 
of  charity.  Meantime,  the  poor-rate  became  a  topic  of  local 
taxation,  the  stem  on  which  additional  fractions  of  a  penny 
were  grafted.  A  large  proportion  of  the  public  money  was 
therefore  under  the  direction,  not  of  those  who  contributed  it, 
according  to  the  English  principle,  but  of  an  authority  chosen 
from  the  upper  classes.  It  is  true  that  the  land,  or  rather  the 
proprietors  of  the  land,  bore  the  whole  burden  of  this  tax,  and 
therefore  had  a  right  to  a  voice  in  the  matter  of  the  employ- 
ment of  the  public  money. 

A  final  privilege  completed  and  confirmed  the  situation. 
Landed  proprietors  alone  have  access  to  the  House  of  Lords, 
the  possession  of  a  great  estate  being  the  first  condition  of  their 
patent.  The  rise  of  the  land  census  made  only  landed  pro- 
prietors  eligible    for    the    House    of   Commons.     They  have, 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    TIIR   STATE     235 

moreover,  pocket  boroughs,  the  houses  and  land  of  which 
belong  to  them,  "nursed  boroughs"  and  even  great  towns, 
the  venal  corporations  of  which  they  buy  for  cash.  A  figure 
expresses  this  situation  and  sums  it  up.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  nineteenth  century  487  members  out  of  658  were 
virtually  elected  by  the  Lords  and  rich  squires. 

This  enormous  growth  of  the  power  of  the  gentry  has  led  to 
their  occupying  a  unique  position  in  the  midst  of  the  new 
nation  developing  around  them,  and  the  part  they  play  in  it 
has  become  more  and  more  contradictory  and  inconsistent. 
Landed  property  and  its  owners  even  now  constitute  a  world 
apart,  surrounded  by  a  different  atmosphere  and  governed  by 
laws  of  gravitation  which  are  not  in  accordance  with  those  of 
modern  economic  society.  That  a  thing  so  necessary  to  all 
parties  as  that  the  land  should  become  a  matter  of  monopoly 
by  systematic  and  concerted  concentration  in  certain  hands, 
that  it  should  be  withheld  to  a  certain  extent  from  traffic  by 
the  law  of  entail,  that  it  should  be  worked  as  a  whoie  to  its 
utmost  capacity — that  is  to  say,  with  large  application  of 
capital,  and  under  the  most  precarious  conditions — yearly 
rent — that  it  should  eventually  lose,  by  the  political  and  social 
advantages  appertaining  to  the  possession  of  the  soil,  the  actual 
value  determined  by  the  size  and  security  of  its  revenues,  and 
that  it  should  assume  the  fantastic  value  of  a  fancy  article,  are 
so  many  conditions  which  have  thrust,  and  continue  to  thrust, 
landed  property  into  a  sphere  of  facts  and  ideas  as  completely 
isolated  economically  as  it  is  judicially. 

It  is  impossible  that  a  class  so  highly  favoured  and  firmly 
established  on  the  soil  should  not  be  prejudiced  to  some  extent 
against  the  disturbances  resulting  from  letting  others  do  as 
they  like.  How  can  they  understand  the  advantages  of  the 
"struggle  for  life"  which  is  the  principle  of  all  improvement, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  highest  guarantee  of  individual 
liberty  ?  They  take  no  interest  iK)r  part  in  the  social  move- 
ment caused  by  each  man  seeking   to  employ  his  abilities  and 


236  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  shifting  of  property  until  it  falls  into  the  hands  most 
capable  of  making  use  of  it.  They  have  always  dreamed  and 
still  dream  of  a  firmly  established  world,  in  which  the  privileged 
positions  are  upheld  by  the  law  and  magnificently  purchased  by 
voluntary  or  compulsory  philanthropy.  Their  instincts  have 
always  inclined  them  towards  a  patriarchal  system  of  govern- 
ment and  humanitarian  system  of  legislation.  Patriarchal 
government — they  conceive  it  in  an  exclusively  English 
form,  by  the  combination  and  concentration  of  all  authority 
in  the  hands  of  the  justice  of  the  peace.  Of  yesterday's  growth 
alone  is  their  comprehension  that  the  administrative  authority 
is  too  technical,  complicated  and  circumstantial  for  them, 
and  they  resigned  it,  not  from  weakness  or  lack  of  courage, 
but  from  a  deliberate  consciousness  of  their  incompetence. 
Humanitarian  legislation  :  the  first  poor-rate  under  Elizabeth 
was  mostly  paid  by  the  gentry,  who  even  by  degrees  took  upon 
themselves  all  the  expenses  of  relief,  contrary  to  the  purport  of 
the  original  statute  which  taxed  personal  as  well  as  landed 
property.  Under  Charles  II.  they  added  to  the  text  of  the 
anti-economic  clauses,  notably  by  the  article  relating  to  indoor 
relief  At  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  they  protested 
by  an  Act  of  Parliament  against  that  worst  of  socialisms  which 
cynically  metes  out  alms  in  accordance  with  necessities.  No 
more  open  encouragement  to  improvidence,  idleness  and 
misconduct  was  ever  given.  The  re-establishment  of  indoor 
relief  was  also  due  to  them  and  bore  the  same  fruits  of  cor- 
ruption, and  yet  they  did  not  take  the  warning  to  heart. 
All  this  philanthropy  which  was  sincere,  yet  self-interested, 
aimed  instinctively  at  averting  the  vigilance  of  the  legislator 
by  correcting  the  most  crying  abuses  of  the  landed  property 
system.  The  means,  equally  with  the  object,  proved  abortive. 
The  gentry  simply  gave  an  example  to  the  public  authorities 
and  furnished  them  with  the  idea  to  their  own  detriment. 
Philanthropy  in  the  hands  of  the  individual  is  in  reality  an 
accomplice  of  the   State,    always    ready    to   play    the   part   of 


THE   INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE  STATE     237 

deserter,  or  at  least  to   treat  with   the   enemy.     The    landed 
proprietors  did  not  incur  the  reproach  of  inconsistency  when, 
in  the    Reformist    Parliament    of    1832    they    undertook    the 
administration   of  the  Factory   Bills.^     These  they  passed   in 
spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  manufacturers,  thereby  subjecting 
this,  the  chief  of  all   industries,  to  minute  regulations,  and  the 
superintendence    of  the    State.      However,    this    diversion,    in 
which    the    pleasures   of   retaliation    were    mingled    with    the 
noblest  and  sincerest   motives,  did    not   protect  them  from  the 
attentions  of  the  legislator.    In  short,  the  whole  rural  organisa- 
tion was  presented  in  the  form  of  a  paradox   which  aimed  at 
establishing  order  in  accordance  with  the  principles  governing 
the  surrounding  world.     Not  only  did  this  paradox  appeal  to 
and  invite  the  interference  of  the   State,   but  furnished   it  in 
advance  with  a  sort  of  apology.     The  powerful  position  of  the 
landed  gentry  conferred  on  them  almost  absolute  authority  over 
the  whole  surrounding  neighbourhood.    Official  protection  could 
not  be  charged  with  depriving  liberty  of  what  liberty  deprives 
this  other  equally  arbitrary   authority.    At   bottom   it  matters 
little  to  the  individual  whether  it  is  the  proprietor  of  a  district 
who  deprives  him  of  his  licence  to  sell  drink,  simply  because  it 
is  his  pleasure  to  do  so,  or  the  State  by  a  temperance  law  ;  in 
reality  there  is  no  difference.     If,  on   the  other  hand,  the  law 
intervenes  beneficiallv,  as  in  the  case  of  forcing  a  landlord  to 
sell  lots  of  ground  for  the  erection  of  places  of  worship  for  the 
Dissenters,  or  in  order  to  prevent  an  abusive  system  of  regula- 
tion regarding  the  alignment  of  houses  in  a  quarter  of  the  town 
belonging  to  a  single  proprietor,  would  not  Parliament  and  the 
State  be  considered  as  deliverers?     Would  they  be  accused  of 
infiinging    private    rights  ?     The    natural    effect    of  liberty, 
exercised  amid  exceptional  circumstances,  was  an  unexpected 

'  In  1846,  the  Six  Hours'  Bill,  supported  by  Lord  Morpeth,  Lord  John 
Russell,  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  Lord  John  Manners,  was  opposed  by 
Messrs.  Hume,  John  Bright,  Roebuck,  Cobden,  and  thrown  out  by  a 
majority  of  ten.  In  1844,  Cobden  refrained  from  voting  on  the  Twelve 
Hours'  Bill  presented  by  Sir  John  Graham  (a  Conservative). 


238  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

development  of  arbitrariness  and  even  tyranny.  This  effect 
eventually  compromised  liberty  itself,  and  covered  up  the 
defects  of  socialistic   expedients. 

In  short,  the  gentry  may  resent  the  interference  of  supreme 
authority  in  certain  questions  ;  they  never  openly  resent  it. 
They  have  a  vague  feeling  that  the  over-accentuation  of  their 
economic  situation  justifies  the  moderating  and  arbitral  inter- 
vention of  the  legislator.  Their  habits  of  protection,  and 
their  humanitarian  instincts,  which  are  the  outcome  of  the 
situation,  are  not  essentially  antagonistic  to  the  interference  of 
the  State. 

These  are  the  strongly  marked  and  still  existing  character- 
istics of  the  local  gentry,  too  firmly  ingrained  and  inveterate  to 
disappear  in  a  day,  even  when  the  position  which  gave  rise  to 
them  has  been  considerably  impaired  and  shaken  and  its  chief 
foundations  menaced  with  ruin.  The  great  and  all-important 
change  which  has  been  eflFected  is  that,  though  the  actual 
extent  of  landed  properties  remain  the  same,  their  relative 
importance  has  been  singularly  diminished  by  the  development 
of  funded  property.  The  depopulation  of  the  country  has 
deprived  the  rural  world,  headed  by  the  gentry,  of  the  prestige 
of  a  numerical  majority.  The  centre  of  gravity  of  the  mass 
has  passed  from  this  rarified  body  to  another  body  denser  and 
ampler,  which  recognises  other  chiefs  and  regards  the  gentry 
as  strangers.  Economically,  the  abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws 
in  1846  took  away  one  of  the  privileges  granted  to  landed 
property  and  placed  it  under  the  regime  of  the  common  law. 
Since  this  epoch,  the  landlords  have  seen  a  gradual  fall  in  the 
value  of  rents,  a  depreciation  which  in  no  way  determined 
them  to  demand  a  revocation  of  the  law  ;  they  contented 
themselves  with  timidly  recommending  fair  trade  and 
applauding  the  fruitless  attempts  of  the  British  Zollverein, 
which  have  been  the  result  of  Imperialism.  Politically,  the 
decline  was  longer  and  more  hesitating  and  yet  equally  irrepar- 
able.    The  law  of  1832,  however,  might  pass  for  a  Conserva- 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     239 

live  measure  in  intention,  although  Liberal  in  its  effects,  it  was 
completed  by  the  laws  of  1867  and  1884  which  permitted 
access  to  the  electoral  body,  the  former  for  town  labourers  and 
the  latter  for  country  labourers.  England  novf  hzs  practically 
universal  suffrage.  Two  complementary  laws — the  Ballot  Bill 
and  the  Act  against  corruption — seriously  impaired  the  influence 
of  the  gentry  by  suppressing  intimidation  and  the  sale  of  votes. 
All  these  laws  have  helped  to  constitute  an  England,  legally, 
if  not  morally,  new.  They  have  prepared  a  transformation 
which  will  not  be  completed — I  mean  will  not  become 
permanent — for  half  a  century.  But  the  movement  is  betrayed, 
year  after  year,  by  statutes  more  and  more  openly  democratic, 
and  recently  by  the  degradation  of  foreign  policy,  which  has 
been  brought  down  to  the  level  of  popular  intelligence  and 
passions.  Royalty,  however,  has  not  disappeared,  as  in  France 
or  Spain,  nor  has  a  republican  party  become  leagued  against  it ; 
the  House  of  Lords  has  not  been  seriously  threatened,  and  the 
inner  world  of  politics  has  not  opened  wide  its  ranks  to  men 
of  another  class,  the  class  whose  wishes  would  henceforward 
be  its  law.  Finally,  administratively,  the  gentry  have  unre- 
sistingly accepted  a  dispossession  which  has  left  them  with  only 
their  judicial  powers,  the  police  and  the  grant  of  licences, 
transferring  all  the  rest  of  their  prerogatives  to  the  elective 
local  corporations.  This  dispossession  was  still  further 
characterised  by  the  allocation,  made  in  the  counties,  of 
certain  parts  of  the  general  taxation  (licences,  aliquot  parts  of 
the  rights  on  testamentary  succession  and  of  excise  on  beer, 
and  of  additional  duty  on  alcohol)  on  the  condition  that  the 
product  may  be  applied  to  an  expenditure  determined  by  the 
law. 

The  jealous  care  with  which  the  county  squires  avoided 
the  subsidies  of  the  State  has  been  plainly  evident  in  higher 
circles.  But  here  it  is  no  longer  the  gentry,  but  an  elective 
and  popular  authority  which  receives  the  subsidies  and 
determines  their  use.     This,  indeed,    is    the    most    important 


240  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

revolution  which  has  disturbed  England,  for  here  the  law  has 
come  into  direct  contact  with  customs,  and  attempted  to 
modify  them.  To  begin  with,  the  landed  aristocracy,  hitherto 
without  competitors,  were  confronted  in  each  county,  district, 
and  parish  with  bodies  animated  by  a  different  spirit  to  their 
own.  A  rapidly  increasing  bureaucracy  kept  it  in  check, 
because  the  legislation  governing  these  bodies  is  so  arranged 
that  elements  are  included  which  do  not  cut  much  of  a  figure: 
the  petty  townspeople  in  the  county  councils  and  the  labourer 
in  the  parish  councils.  These  new-comers  do  not  fail  to  grow 
bolder  with  time,  and  to  exercise  the  influence  belonging  to 
the  majority.  That  unique  and  central  personage,  the  justice 
of  the  peace  on  his  seat,  whom  a  Lord  Chancellor,  at  a  period 
of  crisis,  characterised  by  the  sentence  :  "  The  only  question 
is  to  know  whether  the  Justices  of  the  Peace  will  or  will  not 
do  their  duty,"  no  longer  exists  constitutionally  ;  the  people, 
with  the  acquiescence  of  the  law,  surround  and  press  upon 
him,  climbing  up  the  degrees  which  placed  him  above  them. 
It  is  especially  in  local  administration  that  one  can  predict  to 
a  certainty  and  shortly  a  decisive  change,  a  new  departure 
which,  far  from  reserving  for  the  gentry  a  distinct  rble^  thrusts 
them  like  a  nameless  element  into  a  democracy  which  will 
henceforward  control  their  destinies. 

B. — The   Farmers  and  the  Agricultural  Class. 

Below  the  great  landed  proprietors  are  the  great  moneyed 

farmers,  a  small  class  which  steadily  increases  at  the  expense  of 

the  small  farmers.^     This  class,  also,  as  it  were,  was  somewhat 

'  Between  1851  and  1876  the  number  of  small  farms  (under  100  acres) 
fell  from  39,1.39  to  33,132  ;  the  number  of  large  farms  (over  1,000  acres) 
rose  from  492  to  582.  The  Journal  of  the  Royal  Statistical  Society  (for 
1897)  stated  that  between  1885  and  1895  the  small  estates  (betvi^een  50 
and  300  acres)  increased  in  number  by  2j  per  cent.,  with  a  corresponding 
decrease  of  3  per  cent,  in  the  number  of  estates  of  300  acres  and 
upwards.  What,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that 
the  number  of  farmers  steadily  decreased  .'  It  fell  from  371.700  in  1851 
to  318,500  in   1876,  and  iu  290,800  in   1891. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     241 

out  of  the  economic  perpendicular,  which  caused  a  certain 
obscurity  and  distortion  in  their  ideas,  regarding  the  role  of  the 
State.  The  natural  ambition  of  this  class  was  to  secure  their 
own  progress  by  obtaining  a  firmer  hold  over  the  land,  the 
actual  possession  of  which  was  as  yet  denied  them.  The  law 
had  already  assured  them  compensation  for  any  improvements 
they  might  make  on  the  farms,  and  authorised  them,  in 
accordance  with  the  circumstances  of  each  particular  case,  to 
carry  out  such  improvements  regardless  of  the  approval  of  the 
proprietor.  The  security  of  a  long  lease  being  unobtainable, 
they  set  to  work,  and,  impelled  by  their  desires  beyond  the 
limit  of  a  reasonable  guarantee,  went  to  the  length  of  claiming 
that  their  possession  should  be  transformed  into  quasi  owner- 
ship. Fixity  of  tenure,  a  kind  of  modified  confiscation,  and 
the  determination  of  the  price  of  rents  by  official  arbitration, 
which  was  a  patent  infringement  of  the  right  to  enter  into  an 
agreement,  both  figured  on  the  programme  of  the  Farmers' 
Alliance.  Here,  again,  the  socialism  of  the  State  did  not 
encounter  any  resolute  opponents.^ 

The  moneyed  farmers,  as  remote  socially  as  the  proprietors 
from  the  agricultural  labourers,  did  not  fill  up  the  immense 
gulf  between  the  two  classes.  Compelled  to  take  up  their 
position  at  the  very  foot  of  the  ladder,  the  latter  class  counted 
for  and  weighed  less  and  less  in  the  sum  and  equilibrium  of 
political  forces.  It  is  well  known  that  the  development  of  the 
great  manufactories  in  England  was  extraordinarily  expansive, 
vigorous,  and  rapid.  The  same  effects  that  elsewhere  we  have 
seen  sluggish,  slow  and  interrupted,  were  in  this  case  powerful, 
concentrated,  and  intense.  The  growth  of  the  urban,  and 
depopulation  of  the  rural,  districts  progressed  with  extra- 
ordinary celerity.  The  rural  population  made  up  at  one  time 
the    whole    of    England,  and    not    only    was    the    proportion 

'  See  Mr.  Howard's  address  to  the  Farmers'  Congress  in  1885. 
These  demands  were  a  new  departure  for  the  English  "  Alliance." 
The  Scotch  "  Alliance  "  had  formulated  them  long  before. 

R 


242  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

between  it  and  the  urban  population  reversed,  but  the  former 
fell  to  a  proportionately  miserable  percentage,  and  is  still 
declining.  The  last  census  shows  it  as  losing  nearly  a  tenth 
during  the  decade  1881-1891,  and  representing  only  io*36 
per  cent,  of  the  active  population.  Again,  in  1881  it  fell  from 
3*95  to  3*25  per  hundred  acres ;  and  during  the  last  ten  years 
it  shows  a  still  further  decrease.  Not  only  in  numbers  has  it 
lost,  but  the  petty  proprietors  have  departed,  followed  by  the 
small  farmers,  the  big  farmers  and  agents  now  occupying 
nearly  the  whole  territory. 

Finally,  let  us  consider  the  agricultural  labourers.  The 
towns  attracted  the  healthiest,  strongest,  and  most  active ; 
they  swarmed  thither  in  great  numbers,  leaving  behind  to 
found  families  those  who  were  unable  to  follow  them,  the 
timid,  the  weak  and  the  idle.  "  We  have  only  old  men  left," 
sadly  exclaimed  a  farmer  in  the  inquiry  of  1877.  Each 
exodus  was  thus  signalised  by  a  selection  favourable  to  the 
urban  population  and  destructive  to  the  rural  population. 
After  each  departure,  the  remaining  population  was  less  long- 
lived,  capable  of  filling  up  the  gaps,  and  becoming  physically 
regenerated  by  procreation.  In  many  places  the  peasantry 
could  only  furnish  degenerate  specimens  of  the  species.  After 
Tory  Socialism,  the  poor-rate  and  the  workhouse  put  the 
finishing  touch  to  their  enfeeblement  and  degradation.  In 
addition  to  this,  the  relative  salubrity  of  rural  life,  in  their 
case,  lost  half  its  reparative  virtue.  I  have  drawn  a  picture 
elsewhere  of  these  wretched  creatures  living  in  slums,  three  or 
four  miles  from  the  scene  of  their  agricultural  labours,  less 
exhausted,  perhaps,  by  actual  toil  than  by  the  length  of 
their  journey  every  morning  and  evening,  and  nights  of 
promiscuousness  in  time  of  infection.  This  state  of  things  is 
gradually  becoming  more  and  more  rare ;  but  who  can 
calculate  the  length  of  time  necessary  to  recover  from  its 
hereditary  effects  ?  In  short,  in  the  last  hundred  years  the 
centre  of  social  gravity  has  not  only  been  displaced,  but  has, 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE  STATE     243 

as  it  were,  been  transferred  from  one  pole  to  the  other.  In 
the  country  districts  the  State  could  no  longer  reckon  upon  a 
middle  class  composed  of  prosperous  and  active  men,  indepen- 
dent of  the  freeholders,  such  as  in  former  years  had  furnished 
the  soundest  portion  of  the  Parliamentary  representation  ;  it 
had  to  fall  back  all  of  a  sudden  on  the  reduced  and  debilitated 
population,  who  were  like  strangers  on  a  soil  which  did  not 
belong  to  them,  and  in  cottages  which,  as  a  rule,  they  rented 
by  the  week — a  population  almost  as  shifting  as  that  of  the 
manufacturing  districts.  The  large,  narrow-minded,  eager, 
avaricious  and  hard-working  class,  which  forms  the  basis  of  our 
French  political  world,  made  up  of  petty  rural  proprietors  and 
labourers  living  in  their  own  cottages,  as  much  a  part  of  the 
land  as  a  statue  of  the  marble  from  which  it  has  been  hewn, 
more  sensible  of  local  than  of  class  interest,  trustees  and 
guardians  of  the  Conservative  interest,  an  admirable  dead 
weight  opportunely  restoring  the  disturbed  equilibrium,  has 
nothing  analogous  in  England.  It  is  in  England  rather  than 
in  France  that  the  inferior  rural  strata  has  become  a  dust 
which  a  breath  of  wind  will  scatter,  or  rather,  perhaps,  a  thin 
mud  which  adheres  to  the  soil  by  virtue  merely  of  its  own 
weight. 

Shrewd  landed  proprietors  tried  to  fix  this  population  by 
assigning  them  cottages  with  plots  of  ground.  In  187 1  an 
organisation  similar  to  that  of  the  trade  unions  was 
inaugurated  by  Mr.  Arch  among  the  peasantry.  It  did  not 
succeed  in  taking  root  and  expanding.  Not  till  1884  did  the 
legislator  first  begin  to  take  a  public  interest  in  this  too  long 
neglected  class.  The  field  labourers  formed  the  great  majority 
of  the  million  and  a  half  on  whom  the  electoral  statute 
bestowed  the  right  to  vote,  and  in  his  programme  Gladstone 
avowed  the  intention  of  strengthening  the  body  of  electors  by 
adding  to  it  a  half-educated  class,  whose  education  would  be 
furthered  by  their  consciousness  of  having  a  new  duty  to 
perform.     Two   other    laws    ficilitated    the    constitution     of 


244  ■        THE   ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

allotments  and  small  holdings  ;  whether  by  private  purchase  or, 
in  certain  cases,  by  expropriation,  was  decided  by  an  elected 
local  authority.  Finally,  the  last  law  relating  to  parish 
councils  brought  the  elective  assemblies  down  to  the  level  of 
these  obscure  masses,  giving  the  latter  a  chance  of  obtaining  a 
place  in  the  former,  which  they  could  not  reasonably  hope  to 
obtain  in  the  case  of  county  and  district  councils.  The  office 
of  the  parish  councillor  naturally  appealed,  it  is  easy  to  believe, 
to  the  ambition  of  the  field  labourer,  and  his  election  did  not 
have  the  effect  of  taking  him  out  of  his  class.  It  could  not, 
therefore,  be  said  that  the  public  authorities  were  still 
indifferent  to  the  rural  working  population,  and  had  not  held 
out  a  hand  to  raise  them  up  ;  but  up  to  the  present  every 
effort  made  on  their  behalf  has  proved  futile.  It  is  by  no 
means  evident  that  their  participation  in  electoral  power  has 
made  any  difference  in  the  result  of  the  elections.  The  two 
parties,  Liberal  and  Tory,  have  found  them  neutral,  which 
signifies  that  they  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  ideas  and 
passions  dominating  either  of  these  two  parties.  M.  de 
Rousiers,  on  a  recent  journey,  was  struck  by  the  sort  of 
unconsciousness  and  stupefaction  into  which  the  rural  labourer 
is  plunged,  and  out  of  which  he  cannot  rouse  himself.  If  a 
final  example  of  his  want  of  intelligence  and  apathy  is 
required,  it  will  be  found  in  the  statistics  which  set  forth  the 
private  or  forced  sales  that  have  been  made  with  a  view  ro 
creating  allotments  or  small  holdings.  These  transactions 
have  been  extremley  infrequent.  In  two  years  and  a  half 
(December,  1894-June,  1897)  ^^^7  ^'*^  "^^  exceed  15,000 
acres  in  round  numbers  ;  and  what  is  even  more  remarkable  is 
that  the  expropriations  made  by  authority  were  precisely  nil  ; 
there  was  not  a  single  case  of  compulsory  purchase,  and  only 
five  of  compulsory  hiring.  As  to  the  small  holdings,  they  did 
not  exceed  a  hundred  and  twenty  acres,  bought  by  three 
counties,  in  six  parishes.  We  must  wait  ;  the  forces  which  the 
law  has  set  in  motion  will  eventually  realise  their  own  power  ; 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     245 

the  sentiments  and  methods  of  action  of  the  rural  population 
will,  in   tlie  long  run,  harmonise  with   their  interests. 


C. —  The   Leaders  of  Industry  and  the  Operative  Class. 

The  industrial  population  is  animated  by  a  totally  different 
spirit.  At  their  head  are  the  upper  manufacturing  classes, 
who,  in  1832,  obtained  a  position  of  authority,  and  since  1846 
have  led  the  way  almost  unopposed. 

Prior  to  the  great  mechanical  inventions  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  even  for  a  short  time  afterwards,  these  upper 
classes  were  not  exempt  from  any  of  the  errors  with  which 
prevailing  political  economy  was  pervaded.  The  great 
economic  truths,  entirely  abstract  and  theoretic,  were  in 
frequent  contradiction  with  the  deductions  suggested  by  a 
brief  and  restricted  experience,  and  the  appearances  at 
which  ordinary  common  sense  stopped  short.  It  was  not 
without  difficulty  that  they  obtained  the  assent  of  the  public, 
and  even  that  of  the  classes  whose  interest  it  was  to  discern 
them.  Until  after  the  commencement  of  the  last  century  all 
England  believed  that  wealth  consisted  essentially  in  precioiis 
metals  ;  that  it  was  the  interest  of  the  State  to  keep  them  in 
the  country  ;  that  the  enrichment  or  impoverishment  of  the 
country  might  be  measured  by  the  relative  importance  of  the 
imports  and  the  exports,  and  that  the  gain  realised  by  one 
nation  always  corresponded  with  the  loss  sustained  by  another  ; 
that  custom  house  duties  must  necessarily  benefit  the  people 
whose  government  collects  them  ;  that  the  production  per- 
mitted to  certain  industries  is  a  hindrance  to  other  national 
industries  ;  and  that  labour,  production  and  consumption  must 
he  regulated  at  home.  It  was  only  between  1820  and  1825 
that  the  merchants  and  manufacturers,  becoming  aware  of 
their  power,  repudiated  these  doctrines  and  disclaimed  pro- 
tection. Surrounded  by  every  natural  advantage,  they  believed 
themselves  capable  of  making  their  way  unaided.      Protection 


246  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

implies  certain  restrictions  ;  they  preferred  to  yield  on  occasion 
to  the  claims  of  the  stronger  rather  than  be  continually 
escorted,  guarded,  and  protected  against  themselves  on  the 
assumption  that  they  were  always  the  weaker.  Year  after 
year  would-be  protective  laws  which  regulated  the  manu- 
factures, prohibited  or  enjoined  the  use  of  certain  products, 
hindered  the  traffic  of  merchandise,  the  removal  of  workmen, 
the  exportation  of  machines,  &c.,  were  struck  out  of  the 
statute  book. I  I  have  described  the  evolution  elsewhere. 
The  immense  results  it  achieved  encouraged  the  whole  of  the 
upper  industrial  and  commercial  class  to  adopt  the  principle  of 
Free  Trade.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that  no  principle  has  been 
brought  forward  under  a  more  absolute  and  generalised  form, 
based  more  exclusively  on  deduction,  and  with  greater  dis- 
regard for  facts,  than  in  England,  the  native  land  of  induction. 
"  Political  economy,"  Senior  said,  "  is  independent  of  facts." 
Its  abstract  character  was  preserved  from  the  time  of  Ricardo, 
who  initiated  it,  up  to  the  time  of  John  Stuart  Mill,  passed  on 
by  McCulloch,  Miss  Martineau,  and  others.  The  principle 
of  competition  became  inflated  by  success,  enlarged  by 
practice,  elevated  and  defined  by  deep  thought  ;  and  it  was 
finally  resolved  into  the  general  maxim  that  the  free  fight  is  of 
necessity  a  law  of  human  society,  and  that  the  survival  of 
the  strongest  and  most  capable  is  the  real  sovereign  good. 
Liberty  had  no  argument  more  decisive  for  declining  the 
intervention  of  the  State.  For  forty  years  the  big  manu- 
facturers and  merchants  remained  faithful  to  their  ideas. 
They  defended  them  with  all  the  eagerness  of  the  convert 
who  has  faith  in  his  formula,  and  the  anti-humanitarian  scorn 
of  the  combatant  who  knows  himself  capable  of  conquering. 
They  struggled  against  the  Factory  Acts,  and  submitted  to 
them  without  accepting  their  principle.  It  was  not  until 
after   1867  that   the   admittance  of  workmen  into  the  "  legal 

'  See  Lc  Dcvcloppcmcnt  de  la  Constiiiitioii  ct  dc  la  Socicld  politique  en 
Angletcrre.     Part  III.  chap.  vi. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE   STATE     247 

country"  changed  tlicir  methods,  though  not  their  convictions. 
Since  that  period  electoral  interests  have  forced  them  to  pay 
more  attention  to  men  and  facts.  Even  philanthropy  was  not 
unknown  among  them  ;  at  times  it  inspired  them  and  faintly 
coloured  their  policy,  though  never  forming  its  basis.  The 
State,  as  a  rule,  had  to  recognise  them  as  resolute  or  resigned 
opponents,  approving  or  sceptical  critics,  of  its  measures  of 
intervention  in  the  interests  of  the  working  classes. 

The  history  of  the  lower  manufacturing  classes  during  the 
last  hundred  years  is  significant  and  full  of  instruction.  At 
the  end  of  the  last  century  public  opinion  was  undergoing  a 
complete  and  vigorous  reaction  against  the  ideas  of  the  French 
Revolution.  In  1799  and  1800  some  manufacturers  passed 
two  statutes  completing  the  dependence  and  oppression  of  the 
working  classes  ;  one  of  these  classed  under  the  head  of 
conspiracy  and  punished  with  three  months'  imprisonment  with 
hard  labour,  any  measures  taken  by  a  workman  to  combine 
with  his  comrades  with  a  view  to  obtaining  an  increase  of 
wages  ;  combination  being  regarded  as  a  criminal  act.  The 
other  statutes  visited  with  severe  correctional  penalties  any 
breach  of  contract  on  the  part  of  the  workman.  The  master 
loudly  proclaimed  his  intention  to  treat  separately  with  each 
individual  in  search  ot  employment,  and  to  keep  him,  once 
engaged,  to  the  conditions  which  a  single  man,  without 
resources,  could  not  refuse.  The  workman  was  not  only 
circumvented  and  outraged,  but  humiliated  and  degraded  ;  law 
and  customs  combined  to  make  him,  in  a  very  general  way,  a 
contributor  to  the  public  welfare.  The  Statutes  of  1782  and 
1796,  by  organising  outdoor  relief,  made  charity  a  complement 
of  wages  ;  t.e.^  it  was  not  the  wages  which  were  increased  by 
the  play  of  economic  forces,  but  the  expenses  of  public  charity  ; 
the  poor-rate  went  up  enormously  in  nearly  every  parish,  and 
industrial  England  offered  the  almost  unique  spectacle  of  a  huge 
mass,  not  of  free  workmen,  but  or  paupers,  which  the  force  ot 
circumstances  and  the  severity  and   hypocritical    humanity  of 


248  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  laws  kept  in  a  condition  of  misery   to   a  certain    extent 
official. 

In  1815  public  opinion  in  England  had  completely  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  the  Revolution,  but  Liberal  doctrines  did 
not  regain  their  sway  until  1820  ;  between  which  date  and 
1823  they  were  manifested  in  several  laws  of  enfranchisement 
of  the  strictly  economic  order.  The  last  of  these  was  passed 
in  1825  ;  it  allowed  workmen  to  combine  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  an  increase  of  wages.  But  all  this  legislation, 
marked  as  it  was  by  a  high  degree  of  comprehension  of  the 
conditions  of  commerce  and  manufacture,  did  not  really  benefit 
the  lower  classes.  Legal  penalties  still  visited  any  breach 
of  contract  with  an  employer,  and  workmen  were  exposed, 
indeed  practically  condemned,  to  the  debasing  effect  of  public 
charity  in  the  form  or  outdoor  relief.  Their  situation  was 
more  intolerable  than  ever,  as  the  inquiries  of  the  period  bear 
witness.  After  the  terrible  report  of  the  Commission  of  1833  a 
kind  of  shame  seized  the  community  :  it  was  recognised  that 
the  necessary  reform  could  no  longer  be  delayed.  The  law  of 
1834  perfected  the  system  of  workhouses  :  the  sick  and  the 
old  were  collected  together  in  these  institutions  ;  and,  what 
was  far  more  important,  outside  relief  was  prohibited.  From 
this  time  forward,  the  question  of  wages  was  entirely  separate 
from  that  of  charity;  and  the  rate  fluctuated  in  accordance 
with  the  law  of  demand  and  supply.  The  factory  laws  com- 
pleted the  reform  movement  ;  one  by  one  the  industries  were 
brought  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  law,  and  the  humane 
treatment  assured  to  women  and  children  which  their  helpless- 
ness prevented  them  from  claiming.  I'he  series  of  factory  laws 
is  still  incomplete.  During  the  period  which  lasted  till  1867 
working  men  were  in  the  position  of  a  class  rapidly  on  the 
ascendant ;  the  fierce  and  brutal  strikes  common  among  them 
at  the  beginning  of  the  century  became  more  and  more 
infrequent,  and  they  began  to  form  associations  which  the 
legislator  pretended  to  ignore,  but  the  masters  recognised  and 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     249 

sometimes  even  acknowledged.  It  was  the  better-class  work- 
men who  constituted  these  associations,  and  their  subscriptions 
by  degrees  built  up  a  considerable  capital,  not  unworthy  to  be 
ranked  beside  that  of  their  employers.  During  the  third  of  a 
century,  extending  from  1834  to  1867,  legislation  maintained 
the  same  course,  and  even  the  abolition  of  the  corn  laws  must 
bQ  regarded  as  a  measure  in  favour  of  the  masters.  Neverthe- 
less, the  position  and  circumstances  of  the  lower  classes 
improved  with  incredible  rapidity  :  their  aspirations  and  pre- 
tensions increased  ;  they  enjoyed  an  elevated  and  tranquil 
consciousness  of  their  value  in  the  community,  and  largely 
merited  the  esteem  and  deference  professed  for  them  by 
statesmen  in  the  Parliamentary  debates. 

The  year  1867  was  a  memorable  one  in  the  history  of  the 
industrial  classes  ;  in  this  year,  reform,  brought  about  almost  un- 
consciously by  the  Conservatives,  invested  them  with  electoral 
rights,  followed  by  laws  which  still  further  emancipated  them. 
A  number  of  Bills  in  the  interests  of  these  classes  were  passed  ; 
evidence  of  the  eagerness  of  the  members  to  gain  the  favour 
of  their  new  constituents.  Between  1867  and  1875  the 
inequality,  which  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  existed  between 
master  and  man,  finally  disappeared.  Coalitions  of  working 
men  were  no  longer  threatened  by  the  conspiracy  law,  and 
they  had  only  civil  suits  to  fear  as  a  result  of  breach  of  contract. 
Penal  actions  were  still  in  force,  but  were  directed  against  the 
employer  who  failed  in  his  legal  duty  towards  his  employees. 
Thus  the  parts  were  reversed  :  the  stern  attention  of  the 
legislator  was  devoted  to  the  conduct  of  the  master,  who, 
in  his  turn,  was  liable  to  legal  penalties  for  unfulfilled 
responsibilities.  The  trade  unions  were  now  recognised  as 
having  civil  rights  :  for  instance,  they  could  prosecute  a 
defaulting  cashier  in  a  court  of  law.  From  1875  to  1889 
the  factory  laws,  particularly  those  in  the  interest  of  women 
and  children,  continued  in  force  ;  but  they  gradually  lost  the 
character  of  academic   regulations   proposed    to,   rather    than 


250  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

imposed  on,  the  masters.  Two  institutions  ensured  the 
efficiency  of  these  regulations  :  inspections,  which  became  more 
and  more  general,  and  the  power  of  the  Secretary  of  State  to 
regulate  the  laws,  which  soon  became  extended  to  every 
department  of  the  legislature.  In  1889  a  point  which  had 
first  been  considered  in  1872  assumed  a  prominent  position 
in  the  deliberations  of  the  legislature,  viz.,  sanitary  regulations  ; 
it  was  determined  that  those  regulations,  the  efficiency  of 
which  had  been  recognised,  should  be  enforced  throughout  the 
country,  and  not  left  to  the  option  of  the  inhabitants.  Between 
1889  and  1895  statutes  were  passed  in  quick  succession, 
multiplying  the  precautions  to  be  taken,  heaping  injunctions  on 
the  employers,  and  increasing  ad  infinitum  the  number  of  cases 
in  which  they  laid  themselves  open  to  penal  liabilities.  Finally, 
in  1897,  the  law  intervened  for  the  second  time  in  the  matter 
of  labour  contracts  ;  in  1880  a  first  attempt  was  made  to  modify 
the  terribly  conservative  jurisprudence  of  the  courts  ;  and  in 
1897,  for  the  first  time,  employers'  liability  was  considered  in 
all  its  bearings.  A  priori^  the  masters  were  made  legally 
responsible  for  accidents,  and  compelled  to  make  compensation 
if  they  could  not  prove  that  the  workman,  through  some 
clumsy  mistake,  had  been  the  cause  and  the  victim. 

The  class  which  benefited  by  these  laws  was  remarkable  for 
certain  qualities.  First,  it  was  the  product  of  a  natural  selection 
exercised  at  the  expense  of  the  agricultural  class.  Only  the 
strongest  and  most  resistant  had  quitted  the  rural  for  the 
urban  districts,  and  they  were  also  the  best  and  most  honest ; 
so  much  so  that,  up  to  1840,  pauperism  and  criminality  were 
more  frequent  in  the  country  than  in  the  towns.  They  had 
another  and  no  less  laudable  quality,  that  of  temperance : 
the  consumption  of  alcohol  during  twenty-five  years  did  not 
vary  in  England  in  proportion  to  the  population.  In  the 
almost  universal  progress  of  alcoholism  this  stationary  position 
constituted  an  honourable  exception.  The  nation  which  could 
thus  stave  off  the  two  scourges  of  drunkenness  and  crime  is 
most  undoubtedly  worthy  of  some  consideration. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     251 

After  the  selection  which  separated  the  workman  from  the 
field  labourer  came  that  which  separated  the  skilled  workman 
from  the  ordinary  mechanic.  The  working  classes  had 
acquired  the  position  and  qualities  of  a  superior  class  :  loyalty 
and  fidelity  to  contracted  engagements.  They  had  also  a 
very  strong  sense  of  what  was  due  to  them.  They  argued 
in  forcible  but  perfectly  polite  language  :  so  much  we  learn 
from  the  report  on  the  inquiry  made  in  connection  with  the 
mechanics'  strike.  They  were  also  remarkable  for  a  sense  of 
dignity  and  a  determination  to  accept  nothing  but  their  rights. 
At  the  International  Congress  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  in  May, 
1896,  a  French  revolutionary  having  claimed  that  the 
employer's  liability  ought  to  obtain  in  every  case,  even  when 
the  workman  had  committed  some  clumsy  error,  the  English 
representatives  indignantly  protested  against  a  theory  which 
deprived  the  workman  of  the  responsibility  of  his  actions. 

Their  physical  and  moral   qualities  are  not  all.     The  pro- 
longed operation  of  certain    laws    may    also    have    helped    to 
decide    some    tendencies  among   working  men  which  would 
not  have  been  developed  under  a  different  system  of  government. 
The  peculiar  and  decided  character  which  makes  the  English 
workman    so   striking    a    contrast    to    the    workman    of  our 
country  can   be  summed  up  in  few  words.     In   France,  the 
political  emancipation  of  the  industrial  classes  dates  from  1848  ; 
their  economical  emancipation    only  dates  from  1864,  and  was 
not    completed    till   1884 :    it  is    therefore  quite    recent.     In 
England    economical    emancipation    dates    back  to    the    year 
1828  ;  after  which   the  workmen  waited   patiently  for  almost 
forty    years — until     1867 — for    the    beginning    of   a    political 
enfranchisement  which  was   not  complete  until  1884.      It  is 
impossible  to  imagine  two  classes  called  upon  to  educate  them- 
selves,  decide  their  tastes,  and  form  their  manners,  in    more 
diverse  circumstances.     Let  us  consider  the  consequences.     In 
1848  the  French   working  men  were  provided,  by  the   indis- 
cretion of  the  legislation,  with  a  formidable  weapon,  the  law, 


252  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

whilst  for  another  sixteen  years  they  were  bound  in  the  most 
absolute  economic  servitude  ;  they  had  become  accustomed 
to  hope  everything  from  class  legislation,  and  to  expect  every- 
thing from  the  intervention  of  the  State.  The  English 
working  men  had  been  accustomed,  for  forty  years,  to  dispute 
such  questions  as  the  rate  of  wages,  sub-contracts,  piece  work, 
overtime,  &c.,  with  their  masters.  They  expended  as  much 
passion  over  these  absolutely  local  interests,  which  did  not 
come  under  the  cognisance  of  the  State,  as  if  they  constituted 
a  law  which  set  in  motion  all  the  national  authorities.  The 
French  working  men,  when  for  the  first  time  economic  liberty 
was  offered  them,  regarded  it  with  a  kind  of  contempt  :  they 
were  already  in  possession  of  political  liberty.  They  looked 
upon  the  .new  gift  bestowed  upon  them  merely  as  a  weapon, 
and  used  it  to  threaten  their  masters.  The  English  working 
men,  when  political  liberty  was  accorded  to  them,  had  long 
been  in  enjoyment  of  the  comparative  freedom  conferred  upon 
them  by  the  extra  legal  trade  unions  which,  by  sheer  force  of 
energy,  they  had  made  their  masters  accept,  the  Government 
tolerate,  and  the  magistracy  spare.  They  were  obliged  to 
divest  themselves  of  their  prejudices  in  order  to  comprehend 
and  appreciate  the  fact,  that  the  advantages  they  had  obtained 
and  maintained  by  an  unceasing  struggle  could  be  confirmed 
and  consolidated  by  the  mere  force  of  the  law.  The  French 
masters  had  for  a  long  time  been  accustomed,  and  even  after 
1884  continued  to  look  upon  those  who  took  part  in  a  strike 
as  malefactors  and  rebels.-  English  masters,  on  tlie  other  hand, 
treated  them  as  free  men  who  sought  a  legal  means  of 
bettering  their  position.  Similarly,  while  the  French  workmen 
regarded  the  masters  who  withstood  them  as  irreconcilable 
adversaries,  the  English  workmen  saw  in  them  only  honest 
manufacturers,  who  had  good  reason  to  protect  their  purses. 
After  the  understanding  which  terminated  the  conflict, 
friendly  relations  existed  among  our  neighbours,  whereas  with 
us  rancour,  envy  and  even  vengeance  were  only  postponed  to 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE  STATE     253 

the  next  occasion.  In  a  word,  the  French  regarded  tlieir 
economic  rights,  acquired  too  late,  as  a  means  of  hastening 
the  moment,  still  far  distant,  when  they  would  realise  their 
political  day-dream,  England  did  not  place  her  hopes  in  so 
distant  a  future  ;  her  chief  belief  was  in  force,  her  chief  desire 
to  achieve  results;  when  the  working  men  received  economic 
powers  they  became  far  more  moderate  ;  violent  measures  fell 
into  disuse,  and  forms  were  observed.  The  industrial  classes 
regarded  the  political  future  as  too  remote  for  present  con- 
sideration. 

We  need  not,  therefore,  be  astonished  that  it  was  in  the 
trade  unions,  which  were  occupied  exclusively  with  the 
relations  between  master  and  man,  that  the  working  men 
displayed  the  most  initiative.  In  each  of  these  associations 
their  activity  was  incessant,  and  depended  largely  on  the 
secretary,  who  was  their  mouthpiece.  We  cannot  gauge  it 
merely  by  the  strikes  which  broke  out,  but  must  take  into 
consideration  those  which  a  skilful  negotiation  avoided,  and 
the  difficulties  which  were  resolved  by  arbitration.  In  such 
contests  as  these  the  local  union,  as  a  rule,  had  only  the  master 
to  deal  with.  The  more  widely  extended  it  was  by  the 
amalgamations  and  federations  of  which  it  was  the  nucleus,  the 
more  it  appeared  to  increase  in  power  and  influence  ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  greater  the  stake  at  issue,  the  slower  and 
more  impeded  were  its  operations  and  the  more  liable  they  were 
to  be  disputed  and  interrupted,  the  members  becoming  con- 
scious of  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  their  own  differences  of 
opinion  and  maintaining  their  union  in  face  of  a  struggle.  It 
is  in  their  struggles  with  the  employer  that  working  men 
are  upheld  by  the  recollection  of  their  heroic  age  ;  they 
displayed  a  rough  sincerity,  a  disposition  to  call  things  by  their 
names,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  good-humour,  an  absence  of 
rancour  and  ill-will,  which,  disagreements  once  removed,  assured 
the  renewal  of  friendly  relations  in  the  new  conditions  created 
by   a   mutual   understanding.     This  manner   of  settling   their 


254  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

disputes  has  become  a  habit  of  theirs  ;  the  law,  if  there  be 
one  which  touches  the  matter,  seems  to  them  to  furnish  solu- 
tions too  general  for  the  local  and  special  nature  of  the 
problem. 

The  questions  or  common  interest  which  call  for  the 
solution  of  principles  and  form  the  subject  of  the  laws  relating 
to  the  working  man,  have  been  discussed  in  the  Congresses  of 
the  trade  unions  which  have  been  held  without  a  break  since 
1868,  the  date  of  the  first  of  these  assemblies.  At  a  first 
glance  it  is  evident  how  small  a  part  discussions  play  in  the 
proceedings  at  these  Congresses.  To  begin  with  there  are  a 
considerable  number  of  expressions  of  opinion  which,  directly 
they  have  been  given  vent  to,  are  put  to  the  vote.  It  is  what 
might  almost  be  called  the  incendiary  part  of  the  work  of 
the  Congress  which  is  treated  with  this  indifference :  the 
nationalisation  of  the  land,  a  common  stock  of  instruments  of 
labour,  &c.,  are  examples  of  the  rapid  and  superficial  motions 
which  are  passed  without  arousing  or  arresting  attention. 
Socialism  appears  only  for  the  purpose  of  a  rapid  and  decent 
burial.  The  same  indifference  may  be  remarked  at  the  inter- 
national Congresses.  At  the  Congress  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  in 
1896,  the  English  voted  for  the  nationalisation  of  the  mines, 
practically  without  taking  part  in  the  debate  ;  in  the  same  way 
they  tacitly  rejected  the  international  Ministry  of  Industry 
proposed  by  the  French  ;  finally,  the  question  of  the  working 
man's  insurance  was  discussed  by  the  Germans  without 
provoking  an  acquiescence  or  objection  on  the  part  of  the 
proved  mutualists  from  the  other  side  of  the  Channel.  More 
important  and  interesting  to  the  Congress  is  the  work  of  the 
Parliamentary  Committee.  It  is  remarkable  that  its  report 
contains  no  trace  of  a  struggle  of  classes,  it  is  essentially 
neutral,  prudent,  and  pacific.  A  Frenchman,  looking  at  the 
matter,  could  not  fail  to  be  struck  by  two  things.  First,  the 
insignificance  of  the  questions  raised,  the  disposition  of  the 
Parliamentary   Committee   to  be  content   with  little,  and  to 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND   THE   STATE     255 

concentrate    their    eflForts    every    year    on    a    few    subject^;, 
adjourning   the  others  indefinitely.     It   is  curious   to  note  the 
satisfaction  with  which  the  Committee  speaks  of  the  Bills  voted 
at  a  first  reading,  as  if  they  were  ignorant  of  the  fact   that  it 
was  a  simple  mark  of  courtesy  which  would  not  be  taken  as  a 
precedent.     It  is  equally  curious  to   note  the  equanimity  with 
which  working  men  receive  such  a  confession  of  impotence, 
as  if  the  fact  that  the  incessant  activity  of  their  Committee 
resulted  in  nothing  hardly  concerned  them.     It  is  unquestion- 
able that,  since  1875,  the  only  law,  outside  some  of  the  factory 
laws,  of  which  it  can  be  said  that  it  was  obtained  by  the  Com- 
mittee, is  that  of  1897,  after  an  interval  of  twenty-two  years. 
Is  there  not  also  occasion  for  some  surprise  in  the  fact  that  the 
miners  of  Northumberland  recently  raised  the  question  whether 
there  were  not  occasion  to  save  the  expense  of  a  Parliamentary 
representation  ;  they  consulted  Mr.  John  Bright  on  the  subject 
and  he  confirmed   their  view.     The  other  point  on   which  I 
wish  to  lay  stress  is  the  frequency  of  the  formulas  which  sum  up 
the  practical  part  of  a  reform.     The  economists  of  the  working 
classes  are  adepts  at  finding  two  or  three  words,  the  "  three- 
eighth,"  "  standard  of  life,"  "  living  wage,"  &c.,  which  serve  as 
a  rallying-cry  for  the  whole  class,  and  also  point  out  definitely 
and  unmistakably  the  end  they  have  in  view,  keeping  it  clear  of 
principles  which  they  could   not  understand,  and  general  ideas 
of  which  they  could  but  be  suspicious.     But  how  remote  are 
these  very  general  formulas  from  the  detail  of  a  precise  law  ! 
The  initiative,  too,  rests  with  the  middle  and   upper  classes  of 
which  Parliament  is  composed.     It  is  they  who,   slowly  but 
with  sustained  effort,  make  a  large  number  of  partial  laws,  one 
after  the  other,  consolidating  them  at  lengthened  intervals.    No 
one  really  disputes  the  principle  which  inspires  these  laws  :  it 
is  not  even  discussed  as  soon  as  proof  is  to  hand  that  opinion  is 
ripe  and  the  nation  has  made  up  its  mind.     The  vigilance  of 
the    Parliamentary   Committee    simply    maintains  it    without 
endeavouring    to    force    its    operation.     Thus    we    see   them 


256  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

displaying  a  tranquil  activity,  seeming  in  no  haste  to  achieve  a 
result,  or  to  concern  themselves  with  giving  a  definite  form  to 
the  laws  in  which  they  are  interested.  That  task  devolves 
upon  the  classes  who  are  practised  in  Parliamentary  usages,  and 
they  accomplish  it  at  their  leisure. 

This  narrow  and  positive,  egotistic  and  limited  trade 
unionism  has,  in  our  time,  undergone  the  test  of  a  double 
transformation.  On  the  one  hand,  amalgamated  societies  and 
federations  have  greatly  increased  and  now  number  more  than  a 
million  members.  This  is  the  reason  why  they  are  more 
powerful  in  the  struggle,  and  yet  more  cautious  at  the  outset ; 
also  why  they  have  a  higher  standpoint  and  appreciate  things 
in  a  less  narrow  and  more  comprehensive  spirit.  The  second 
transformation,  which  has  been  in  process  of  evolution  for  ten 
years,  is  the  introduction  of  what  is  called  neo-trade  unionism. 
A  new  doctrine  came  into  vogue  with  the  general  use  of 
machinery.  Wherever  a  machine  has  replaced  the  working 
man  the  skilled  labourer  has  given  place  to  the  unskilled. 
There  is  no  need  for  special  training  in  order  to  be  able  to  guide 
a  mechanical  apparatus,  while  a  long  apprenticeship  is  necessary 
to  enable  a  man  to  accomplish  with  tools  the  work  executed  by 
such  an  apparatus.  The  result  of  this,  is  that  the  demand  for 
skilled  labourers  has  decreased,  and  the  masters  have  evinced 
an  inclination  to  replace  them  by  ordinary  workmen  at  a  lower 
rate  of  wage.  As  a  proof  of  this  I  need  only  mention  the 
hostility  exhibited  by  working  men  towards  machines  in  recent 
years.  What  is  even  clearer  evidence  of  the  desideratum  of  the 
working  men  is,  that  they  have  gradually  come  round  to 
demand  that  the  machinery  should  always  be  placed  in  the 
charge  of  skilled  labourers.  It  is  nevertheless  evident  to  what 
economical  progress  has  led  :  a  smaller  demand  for  skilled 
labourers  and  a  greater  demand  for  ordinary  mechanics.  On 
the  other  hand,  public  feeling  inclined  towards  the  latter.  In 
1889,  the  dockers,  ordinary  labouring  men  hired  by  the  day, 
fell  out  with  their  employers.   Public  sympathy  was  wholly  on 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE    257 

their  side,   and  they   obtained  an  easy   victory.     This  gave  an 
impetus  to  the  whole  body  of  unskilled  labourers. 

Neo-trade  unionism  was  remarkable  in  three  ways.  First, 
the  new  associations  gave  up  all  pretension  to  being  friendly 
societies  ;  their  object  was  no  longer  to  relieve  the  working 
man  in  cases  of  accident  or  illness  ;  all  their  financial  force  was 
concentrated  on  promoting  strikes.  In  the  second  place,  the 
subscriptions  were  reduced  to  a  very  modest  figure,  pro- 
portionate with  what  a  man  receiving  average  wages  could 
afford  to  pay.  Neo-trade  unionism  was  in  this  way  reduced 
to  the  role  of  an  engine  of  war,  in  connection  with  which  only 
sufficient  provisions  had  been  laid  in  to  last  for  a  day.  The 
working  men  were  not  retained  in  the  society  by  their  know- 
ledge of  the  great  capital  they  had  contributed  to  form  and 
could  dispose  of  as  they  would.  Finally,  in  the  third  place, 
neo-trade  unionism  was  led  by  this  very  irresponsibility  into 
formulating  its  desiderata  more  largely,  and  including  more 
principles  and  general  ideas  in  its  programme.  The  events 
which  followed  its  entry  on  the  scene  were  not  favourable  to 
it.  Between  1887  and  1894  a  strong  wave  of  feeling  caused 
the  unskilled  labourers  to  combine,  and  a  fair  number  of 
unions  were  formed  with  great  hopes.  But  if  we  consider  the 
present-day  fruit  of  these  hopes,  we  must  admit  that  neo- 
trade  unionism  has  proved  wholly  abortive.  In  1894  the 
agricultural  labourers  in  England  and  Wales  constituted  nine 
unions,  with  6,600  members  ;  in  the  following  year  they  had 
only  seven,  with  1,000  adherents,  while  in  1898,  they  were  but 
two  in  number  with  171  followers.  The  mechanics'  unions 
kept  up  their  numbers  better,  although  not  without  difficulty. 
In  1892  they  had  100,900  members,  and  at  the  end  of  1897 
only  97,000  of  these  still  remained.  The  transport  industry 
decreased  in  almost  the  same  proportion,  from  154,000  to 
147,300  members,  while,  in  the  same  space  of  time,  the 
building  trades  unions  went  up  from  160,400  strong  to 
235,000    members;  the    miners  from    315,000  to    352,000; 

S 


258  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

the  workers  in  metal  from  278,000  to  308,000  ;  and  the 
weavers  from  204,000  to  213,000.  Meantime  but  few  of 
the  older  societies  revised  their  rules  with  the  idea  of  admitting 
the  unskilled  as  members.  No  trace  of  this  movement  now 
remains,  unless  it  be  found  in  a  better  knowledge  of  the  great 
problems  and  a  practice  of  regarding  questions  from  a  more 
general  point  of  view  and  seeking  less  narrow  solutions  to  them. 
It  is  difficult  for  a  society  with  local,  or,  if  not  local,  special 
aims,  established  for  the  purpose  of  promoting  the  interests  of  a 
community,  to  rise  to  the  height  of  abstract  principles  ;  it  is 
easy,  on  the  contrary,  and  perfectly  natural  for  the  members  of 
such  societies  to  share  the  same  opinions  and  beliefs.  Socialism, 
so  far  as  it  is  represented  in  England,  is  more  remarkable  in 
many  centres  by  reason  of  the  force  of  certain  personalities 
than  the  number  of  their  adherents  or  the  results  they  achieve  ; 
this  is  the  case,  for  instance,  with  the  Social  Democratic 
Federation,  the  Fabian  Society,  the  Labour  Church  League, 
the  English  Land  Restoration  League  and  the  Independent 
Labour  Party.  All  these  societies  owe  their  inception  to  the 
teachings  of  Karl  Marx  and  Hyndman  between  1880  and 
1883,  and  were  founded  subsequent  to  that  date.  Some  of 
them  are  under  the  leadership  of  distinguished  men,  such  as 
Mr.  Sidney  Webb,  president  of  the  Fabian  Society,  Mr. 
Barnes,  of  the  Independent  Labour  Party,  &c. ;  otherwise  they 
would  hardly  have  much  weight  with  the  nation.  In  vain  the 
majority  of  them  have  cut  out  of  their  programmes  the  more 
abstract  aims  of  Socialism  ;  what  still  remains  is  sufficient  to 
repel  and  hold  at  a  distance  so  profoundly  individualistic  a 
nation.  The  Social  Democratic  P^ederation  only  numbers 
11,000  members;  the  Fabian  Society,  which  derives  its  name 
and  methods  from  Fabius  Cuiictator,  makes  this  an  excuse  for 
its  tardy  progress,  at  least  to  its  own  satisfaction  ;  its  sole  object 
is  the  municipalisation  of  certain  industries  and  it  places  itself 
in  opposition  to  public  feeling  by  demanding  the  admittance 
of  the  poor  into   the  electoral   body,  and    the  confiscation  of 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     259 

property  by  a  progressive  taxation  of  entailed  estates.  The 
English  Land  Restoration  League  has  the  advantage  of  a 
special  object,  viz.,  the  reduction  of  landlordism  ;  its  activity  is 
displayed  by  numerous  debates,  which  in  one  year  recently 
reached  the  figure  of  350.  But  the  Lidependent  Labour 
Party  is  the  one  most  likely  to  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  a 
Frenchman  by  the  impetuosity  and  hardihood  with  which  it 
launches  itself  into  controversy.  Its  programme  includes 
almost  every  section  in  a  perfect  scheme  of  social  reform,  even 
outside  the  limits  of  a  particular  country  ;  viz.,  the  suppression 
of  land  monopoly,  the  natioiialisation  of  railways  and  canals, 
old  age  pensions,  tlie  law  of  labour,  and  the  extinction  of  war 
by  arbitration.  But  there  are  strong  reasons  why  it  cannot 
gain  the  public  ear  :  it  takes  up  too  many  subjects  for  any  one 
to  seriously  believe  that  it  is  likely  to  be  successful  in  a  single 
case.  From  the  English  point  of  view  it  is  neither  positive  nor 
practical ;  up  to  the  present  day  its  meetings  have  never 
numbered  more  than  1 2,000  members,  and  when  in  the  last 
electoral  struggle  it  essayed  to  calculate  its  forces,  the  result 
was  that  not  one  of  the  twenty-two  candidates  it  put  forward 
were  returned. ^  The  50,000  votes  it  possesses  were  unequally 
distributed  among  the  thirty-nine  constituencies  in  which  they 
had  been  given  in.  Li  sliort.  Socialism  is  never  likely  to  make 
much  of  a  figure  in  England,  at  least  in  the  form  under  which 
it  is  known  in  France  and  Germany.  The  trade  unions 
occupy  the  ground,  and  it  is  improbable  they  would  allow 
themselves  to  be  distracted  from  the  immediate  and  practical 
objects  they  have  in  view,  merely  to  lose  themselves  in  space 
in  the  pursuit  of  unsubstantial  dreams. 

8.   The  Religious  Sects. 

The  Churches   and    religious  communities  form  a  second 

'  These  fads  relate  to  1895.  The  party  does  not  appear  to  have  had 
better  fortune  in  the  election  of  October,  1900  :  it  sent  in  seven  candidates, 
only  one  of  whom  was  returned. 


26o  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

special  group,  quite  as  natural  and  full  of  life  as  the  social 
classes.  A  curious  antinomy  forms  the  basis  of  their  relations 
with  the  individual  and  the  State.  The  faith  which  unites  the 
members  of  this  group  forms  a  powerful  support  for  "  the 
liberty  of  the  subject."  The  collective  beings  here  encoun- 
tered by  public  authority  are  not  brought  together  by  a 
temporal  interest,  comparable  with,  and  inferior  to,  that  of 
the  State.  Their  aim,  their  goal,  is  the  highest  to  which  the 
heart  of  man  can  aspire.  It  is  beyond  the  earth,  above  the 
skies.  The  civil  powers  can  bring  into  competition  with  it 
only  the  most  important  of  earthly  interests,  which  are  im- 
potent to  detach  from  it  the  imagination  of  those  who  have 
dreamed  of  it,  the  will  of  those  who  have  vowed  to  attain  it. 
Here  we  find  a  principle  of  energy,  and  a  school  of  high 
independence.  The  man  who  has  obtained  a  glimpse  of  the 
infinite  stands  erect  ;  no  threat  nor  seduction  of  things  earthly 
can  make  him  bend  his  head. 

But  if  religious  faith  is  in  one  sense  an  agent  of  liberty,  in 
another  it  is  an  agent  of  tyranny.  Intolerance  is  an  essential 
feature  of  all  belief  based  on  the  assumption  of  having  grasped 
absolute  truth  and  absolute  good  ;  for  the  very  fact  of  their 
being  absolute  justifies  the  means  employed  to  make  them 
prevail,  and  to  root  out  the  sin  and  evil  which  obstruct  their 
progress.  This  cynical  idealism  is  particularly  characteristic  of 
dawning  or  new  faith.  Such  faith  has,  what  might  be  called 
the  defect  of  its  age,  the  imperturbable  and  pitiless  logic  of  the 
adolescent.  Sometimes,  after  a  long  series  of  reciprocal  and 
futile  persecutions  between  the  churches,  tolerance  appears 
under  the  form  of  lassitude  and  disgust.  It  appears,  but  only 
for  a  while,  if  the  society  of  the  age  happens  to  be  a  religious 
one  ;  and  after  a  period  of  relaxation  oppression  recommences. 
In  short,  all  living  religious  faith  has,  like  civil  authority,  a 
natural  affinity  for  tyranny.  The  two  powers  instinctively 
draw  near  together,  and  nothing  is  more  threatening  to  the 
liberty  of  the  subject  than  such  an  alliance,  when  heavenly 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE   STATE    261 

interests  and  the  welfare  of  the  State  are  banded  together 
against  the  individual. 

An  alliance  of  this  kind  was  concluded  in  England  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  Henry  VIII.  had  merely  intended  to  effect 
a  schism.  Anglicanism  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  simply 
Catholicism  minus  the  Pope,  with  the  king  as  spiritual  head. 
The  English  accepted  the  substitution  without  a  murmur  ; 
their  hatred  of  the  foreigner  and  satisfaction  at  having  an 
"  English  God  "  concealed  the  danger  from  them.  Later  on, 
the  Crown  judged  it  wise  policy  to  allow  Anglicanism  the 
support  of  the  creed  which  at  that  time  held  Papistry  in  check 
throughout  the  whole  of  Europe,  and  Anglicanism  became 
Calvinistic.  But  Calvinism  in  England  was  regarded  by  those 
who  invoked  its  aid  as  merely  a  religious  garrison,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  defend  a  hastily  constructed  political  institution.  A 
degraded  episcopacy  placed  its  theology  at  the  service  of 
royalty.  All  this  accorded  with  the  interests  and  wishes  of 
the  civil  power.  On  the  one  hand,  the  Church  made  use  of 
the  strength  of  the  secular  arm,  and  on  the  other,  the  State 
imitated  the  Church  by  claiming  the  right  to  search  closely 
into  men's  consciences,  and  to  chain  down  thought,  in  its 
habit  of  considering  dissent  as  a  crime.  All  resistance  to 
ecclesiastical  commands  was  treated  as  high  treason,  all  oppo- 
sition to  the  commands  of  the  prince  was  regarded  as  sacrilege; 
nothing  was  wanting  to  render  tyranny  omnipotent,  all- 
enveloping,  and  intolerable. 

The  energy  of  the  Dissenters  saved  English  liberty.  They 
were  not,  either  theoretically  or  instinctively,  more  liberal 
than  the  Anglicans  ;  this  they  made  clear  in  every  place,  and 
on  every  occasion  that  they  found  themselves  masters,  in 
Scotland,  in  Massachusetts,  and  in  Connecticut.  Authority, 
as  they  conceived  it,  had  the  charge  of  consciences,  and  a 
mission  to  constrain  people  to  the  right  way  of  thinking. 
But  the  power  was  in  the  hands  of  their  opponents  ;  they 
needed  liberty,  and  had  to  be  content  to  form  the  bulk  of  the 


262  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

army  which,  on    two  occasions,  overturned  an   irreclaimable 
dynasty. 

Under  Charles  11.  there  was  a  terrible  recrudescence  of 
persecution  among  the  Dissenters  :  they  were  hunted  down  in 
the  person  of  the  Roundheads  :  the  followers  or  partisans  of 
Cromwell.  Not  until  after  1688  did  a  first  measure  of  toler- 
ance come  into  force  on  their  behalf.  It  was  in  this  way 
that  William  III.  discharged  his  debt  to  his  political  allies,  and 
strengthened  the  irreconcilable  adversaries  of  the  fallen  dynasty. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  at  the  same  time,  and  to  their  great 
satisfaction,  the  Papists  were  more  molested  than  ever.  They 
would  have  protested  to  a  man  if  the  indulgence  by  which 
they  profited  had  been  set  up  as  a  general  principle  and 
extended  to  the  Catholics.  For  reasons  of  an  equally  political 
nature,  persecution  recommenced  against  all  the  Noncon- 
formists under  Oueen  Anne.  In  the  midst  of  these  scandalous 
fluctuations  indifference  gained  ground,  and  scepticism  took 
possession  of  the  upper  classes.  It  was  inevitable  ;  religious 
liberty  could  only  be  established  by  a  preliminary  period  of 
doubt  and  strong  criticism.  Scepticism  formed,  as  it  were,  an 
atmosphere  around  the  believers,  enveloping,  penetrating,  and 
imperceptibly  mitigating  the  excessive  rigidity  of  their  zeal. 
It  had  another  merit  :  it  threw  into  relief,  sincerity,  dis- 
interestedness, and  the  social  utility  of  serious  conclusions, 
independently  of  the  purport  of  the  doctrines  on  which  they 
were  based.  To  the  sceptic  all  religious  beliefs  are  on  the 
same  footing  and  outside  question,  the  value  of  moral  motives 
and  effects  therefore  is  his  sole  concern,  and  for  that  very 
reason  appear  to  him  all  the  more  striking,  and  set  apart  for 
attention  and  respect.  This  important  change  was  the  work 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Towards  1750  the  last  hopes  of 
the  Stuarts  and  their  partisans  vanished,  which  was  another 
reason  why  a  more  general  tolerance  should  pervade  the 
legislative  system.  Under  George  II.  a  first  attempt  was  made 
to  mitigate  the   severity  of  the  laws  in  the  form  of  bills  of 


THE  INDIVIDUAL   AND    THE   STATE     263 

indemnity  ;  the  Nonconformists  were  exempted  ex  post 
facto  from  the  penalties  to  which  they  were  liable  for  having 
filled  offices  closed  to  them  under  the  law.  Under  George  III. 
a  sentiment  of  fidelity  to  the  Hanoverian  dynasty  was  common 
among  all  the  religious  denominations.  State  policy,  therefore, 
had  no  longer  a  motive  for  enjoining,  intolerance.  The  philo- 
sophy of  common  sense  and  humanitarian  sentimentality  were 
both  urged  upon  Parliament  by  the  outside  world,  and  forced 
it  to  mitigate  the  rigour  of  the  law.  The  English  Catholics, 
least  favoured  of  all  the  denominations,  were  the  first  to  reap 
a  small  benefit  from  this  in  1778  ;  then  the  Protestant  Non- 
conformists of  Ireland  (1779),  who,  scattered  among  a  Papist 
population,  were  led  by  circumstances  to  be  the  supporters  of 
the  Crown,  and  were  admitted  to  official  positions  ;  then  the 
Episcopalians  of  Scotland,  who  had  been  maltreated  as  partisans 
of  the  fallen  dynasty  ;  from  this  time  forward  they  did  not 
insist  on  praying  for  the  Stuarts,  and  were  protected  against 
persecution.  Finally  in  1793  the  Irish  Catholics  obtained  the 
right  to  vote,  and  admittance  to  many  official  positions.  In 
1829  the  act  of  emancipation  granted  to  all  Roman  Catholics, 
without  distinction,  most  of  the  rights  hitherto  denied  to  them, 
and  consequently  the  English  and  Scotch  Catholics  obtained 
the  benefit  of  civil  and  political  equality — an  equality  now 
almost  perfect.  The  secularisation  of  all  civil  and  political 
appointments  progressed  in  the  same  ratio.  Quakers,  Catholics, 
Dissenters,  and  Jews  were  successively  admitted  to  municipal 
offices,  and  within  the  doors  of  Parliament,  which  now 
remained  closed  only  to  declared  atheists.  For  the  first  time, 
a  short  while  ago,  an  Israelitish  peer  took  his  seat  in  the  House 
of  Lords.  A  profession  of  Anglicanism  was  required  only 
from  the  Sovereign  and  some  great  dignitaries.  In  1837  and 
1852  civil  marriage  was  organised,  and  divorce  cases  and 
testamentary  documents  which  had  been  under  the  jurisdiction 
of  an  ecclesiastical  court,  were  transferred  to  a  lay  court 
(1857).     ^^Q  Universities  and  all  their  degrees  were  opened 


264  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

to  Dissenters,  who  up  till  now  had  been  excluded  from  them. 
A  clause,  called  the  conscience  clause,  guaranteed  religious 
liberty  in  the  primary  schools.  Taxes  for  the  maintenance  of 
Church  and  State  became  optional.  Interments  in  consecrated 
ground  ceased  to  be  the  monopoly  of  the  Anglican  Church. 
It  was  a  gradual  transposition  of  the  Church  and  the  laity,  and 
little  was  required  to  complete  it.  This  movement  was  ter- 
minated, as  must  have  been  foreseen,  and  was  inevitable,  by 
the  separation  of  the  Church  and  the  State,  already  essayed, 
and  not  without  success,  in  Ireland.  Henceforth  no  religious 
belief  whatsoever  was  legally  an  obstacle  or  imparted  a  degree 
of  inferiority  to  those  who  professed  it  ;  this  was  also  true  of 
the  absence  of  all  belief. 

In  short,  in  this  country,  where  the  supreme  chief  of  the 
civil  power  is  still  the  supreme  chief  of  the  Church,  no 
remnant  of  theocratic  despotism  still  exists.  Liberty  of  con- 
science and  creed  are  now  as  complete  as  imagination  could 
conceive.  The  main  point  is  that  this  liberty  has  not  been 
consummated  at  the  expense  of  religious  sentiment.  Faith 
has  been  attacked  only  on  the  outside  of  her  fortress.  Toler- 
ance and  faith  seem  equally  necessary  to  these  free  people.  A 
man  who  may  not  choose  and  profess  his  belief  possesses  only 
the  half  of  his  soul.  Men  who  do  not  believe  in  the  spiritual 
world  will  for  years  to  come  be  found  lacking  in  moral  force. 
To  the  English,  theology  is  not  an  object  of  contemplation 
and  elevated  thought  ;  they  believe  it  to  be  an  inexhaustible 
source  of  strength,  a  bond  which  links  their  forces  together 
and  assures  the  efficacy  of  their  united  action.  It  is  chiefly 
as  a  point  of  support  that  they  seek  it,  and  because  this  is  so, 
the  Englishman  will  always  be  more  inclined  to  religion  than 
to  philosophy.  Philosophy  is  light  without  warmth  ;  religion 
is  warmth  without  light,  or  with  a  chequered,  reflected,  and 
refracted  light.  But  warmth  is  essentially  movement,  and  a 
source  of  movement.  The  Englishman  cares  less  for  enlighten- 
ment  than   for  strength,   vigour,  and   progress,   which   is  the 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND    THE   STATE    265 

reason  wliy  this  race,  so  pre-eminently  active,  have  always 
held  faith  in  the  highest  esteem.  After  a  period  of  unbelief 
and  rationalism,  the  Wesleyan  movement  stirred  the  nation  to 
its  depths.  The  Oxford  Movement  was  less  extended  but  of 
equal  force.  The  only  difference  between  the  eighteenth 
century  and  our  own  is,  that  faith  among  believers  is  now 
pervaded  by  the  sort  of  worldly  wisdom  which  emanates  from 
an  ambient  scepticism;  it  no  longer  dreams  of  conquering  the 
world  by  force,  nor  does  it  aspire  to  an  alliance  with  the  State 
and  the  \ise  of  the  secular  arm.  It  reigns  by  force  of  per- 
suasion and  grace.  It  inspires  and  links  together  those  who 
look  above  the  world  for  the  powerful  and  ardent  motives 
governing  their  actions  ;  and  this  is  why  State  policy,  a  sub- 
lunary interest,  has  not  the  power  to  sway  them.  It  is  perhaps 
too  much  to  say  that  a  democracy  cannot  understand  how  to 
be  free  if  it  is  not  religious  ;  but  a  democracy  which  has 
never  ceased  to  be  religious  has  certainly  a  superior  capacity 
for  resistance  against  the  despotism  of  civil  government. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    STATE    AND    ITS    FUNCTION    AT    HOME 

England  is  generally  conceded  to  be  the  country  in  which 
individualism  has  obtained  the  firmest  and  deepest  hold.  This 
is  true  if  it  is  understood  aright  ;  but  nothing  would  be  more 
false  and  deceptive  than  to  conceive  the  individual  as  powerful 
and  equipped,  and  the  State  as  feeble  and  uncertain  of  its 
rights ;  they  must  both  be  considered  as  having  an  equal 
consciousness  of  their  strength,  their  sphere  and  their 
vocation. 

Historically,  this  view  is  confirmed  by  the  whole  political 
past  of  England  ;  in  no  other  country  is  the  idea  of  the  State 
as  sovereign  so  ancient  and  undisputed.  As  a  consequence  of 
the  Norman  invasion  England  almost  immediately  became  an 
homogeneous  nation  and  a  relatively  centralised  country.  In 
France  the  provinces  were  acquired  by  the  King  one  by  one, 
and  on  each  occasion  the  treaties  or  charters  granted  to  them 
confirmed  their  ancient  liberties,  or  bestowed  on  them  special 
immunities  which  tended  to  perpetuate  the  consciousness  of 
their  distinct  past  and  separate  interests.  They  were  annexed 
rather  than  incorporated  in  the  kingdom,  and  a  revolution, 
which  obliterated  even  their  names,  was  necessary  in  order  that 
they  might  become  part  of  the  national  unity.  In  England  the 
territory  was  acquired  in  the  bulk.  After  the  Conquest,  the 
counties  appeared  as  purely  administrative  divisions  analogous 
to  our  departements  and  present-day  arrondissements  ;  they  were 


TUE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  AT  HOME      267 

governed  by  one  law,  and  few,  if  any,  had  special  and  re- 
markable privileges.  In  France,  the  great  feudatories  were 
quite  independent,  in  fact  sovereigns  over  domains  almost 
as  excluded  and  compact  as  the  royal  domain  ;  each  could 
entrench  himself  in  his  own  little  realm  and  defy  the  power 
of  the  King.  They  were  overcome  one  by  one,  ccepit  vesci 
singulis^  and  eventually  the  King  became  sole  lord.  The  direct 
vassals  of  William  I.  received  many  small  manors,  scattered 
over  the  country  from  one  end  to  the  other  ;  but  not  even 
the  most  powerful  among  them  was  strong  enough  to  engage 
alone  in  a  rebellion  against  the  sovereign.  From  such  an 
enterprise  not  one  of  them  but  would  have  come  forth  van- 
quished, unless  he  had  combined  with  the  others.  Opposi- 
tion could  only  be  effective  if  concentrated,  even  as  the 
power  which  it  sought  to  overawe.  In  the  thirteenth  century 
it  crystallised  into  a  regular  organ  near  the  throne  ;  viz..  Parlia- 
ment. In  very  early  days  the  modern  conception  of  the  State 
exercising  a  sovereign  authority  over  the  whole  territory, 
under  the  sole  control  of  the  deputies  of  the  nation,  un- 
reservedly superseded  in  England  the  anarchical  idea  of  the 
feudal  hierarchy,  which  continued  to  exist  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree  in  other  countries,  where  it  retarded  and  perverted  a 
similar  evolution.  After  careful  study  we  cannot  find  that 
the  central  government  has  been  so  strongly  organised  in  any 
other  country  since  the  Middle  Ages,  nor  had  a  clearer  con- 
sciousness, quite  apart  from  the  national  character,  of  its 
mission  and  the  unlimited  extent  of  its  power.  It  gave  un- 
equivocal signs  of  this,  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  in  a  multitude 
of  paternal  and  circumstantial  laws  full  of  prohibitions  and 
claims,  which  regulated  matters  of  private  interest  even  to  the 
smallest  details,  giving  extraordinary  proof  of  the  Socialism  of 
the  State.  The  most  characteristic  example  of  this  legislation 
was  the  poor-rate.  Whoever  has  turned  over  the  leaves  of 
the  statute  book  of  the  period  must  have  been  disabused  of 
the  current  idea   that   in   Enirland    the  State   is  a  timid  and 


268  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

prudent  power,  uncertain  of   its    rights    and    anxious  not   to 
exceed  the  narrow  limits  of  its  sphere. 

Yet  we  do  not  expect  to  see  this  bold  and  omnipotent  State 
practically  superseded  by  individuals.     Every  time  it  attempted 
to  create  an  office,  for  which  money  would   be  required,  the 
citizens  took  the  initiative,  tied   its  hands,  as  it  were,  assumed 
control  and  prevented  the  creation  of  a  bureaucracy.     From 
the  top  to   the  bottom  of  the  ladder  of  authority  this  spirit 
of  baulked  activity  was  visible.     Whereas  in   France  the  in- 
difference of  the  great  vassals  allowed  the  Court  of  Peers  to 
become  confused   and   lost   to    sight   among  a   parliament  of 
legists,  from  which  a  council  of  administrators  was  afterwards 
evolved,  to  the  great  advantage  of  the  professional  element,  in 
England    the    parliament  of  lords    became    consolidated    and 
perfected   by   the   representatives  of    the  smaller   estates   and 
towns,   absorbed    the    officials   of    the    palace   and    obtained 
supremacy  over  every  other  body  political  or  legal.    In  France, 
the    central    authority   multiplied    and    strengthened    without 
ceasing,  under  names  which  varied  with  the  period,  the  agents 
who  represented  it  in  the  different  localities,  and  eventually  it 
instituted  intendants,  who  were  the  precursors  of  our  prefects. 
In   England,  the  powers  of  the  sheriff,  a  kind  of  elementary 
intendant,  very   powerful    in   the  time  of    Henry   III.,  were 
restricted  and  reduced  from  day  to  day,  and  where  this  official 
was  gradually  disappearing,  the  magistrates,  who  were  simply 
private  individuals  receiving  no  salary  and  so  extraneous  to  the 
bureaucracy  that  no  administrative  superior  could  be  pointed 
out  on   whom  they  were    dependent,  had    their    prerogatives 
extended   until   the  whole  government  of  the  county  was  in 
their  hands.     These  magistrates,   who  were    great    lords  and 
landed    proprietors,    were    not    in    the    beginning    accounted 
capable  of  performing  their  functions  unassisted,  and,  for  the 
same   reason   that  in   France    the  bailiffs  were   authorised    or 
rather  compelled    to  allow   themselves    to    be  seconded   by   a 
professional  assistant,  the  English  magistrates,  by  the  terms  of 


THE   STATE'S  E UNCTION  AT  HOME      269 

the  commission  delivered  into  their  hands,  were  not  allowed  to 
hold  a  court  without  tiie  presence  of  some  one  among  them 
who  belonged  to  the  class  of  professional  jurists.  This  was 
the  object  of  what  was  called  the  clause  of  the  quorutn^  in 
which  were  inscribed  the  names  of  those  specially  qualified 
whose  presence  was  requisite  to  insure  the  legality  of  the 
deliberations.  But  whereas  in  France  the  nominal  bailiff, 
indolent,  or  occupied  with  other  cares,  allowed  himself  to  be 
supplanted  in  all  his  functions  by  his  professional  coadjutors,  in 
England  it  was  the  magistrate,  i.e.^  the  private  individual,  with- 
out capability  or  special  qualifications,  who  gradually  elbowed 
out  his  jurist  colleagues.  Since  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century  the  quorum  clause  has  included  the  name  of  every 
magistrate  without  distinction.  The  signification  of  these 
facts  is  perfectly  apparent.  They  make  us  understand  how  it 
is  a  bureaucracy  has  not  arisen  or  developed  in  England  :  it 
is  not  that  the  State  had  no  clear  idea  on  the  subject,  nor 
sufficient  force  and  claim,  but  because  every  time  there  was 
occasion  to  establish  an  administrative  office  active  private 
individuals  offered  to  fill  it  gratuitously. 

There  were  even  offices  which  the  individual  was  so  anxious 
to  obtain,  and  in  the  acquisition  of  which  he  so  forestalled  the 
State,  that  their  unquestionably  public  character  was  lost  sight 
of  for  centuries.  This  is  why,  up  to  our  own  times,  there  has 
been  no  public  ministry  to  represent  outraged  and  threatened 
members  of  society  before  the  courts  of  justice,  interested 
parties  having  supplied  its  place.  In  1839  there  were  more 
than  500  voluntary  societies  whose  object  was  the  arrest  and 
pursuit  of  criminals,  in  fact  the  fulfilment  by  individuals  of 
the  first  duty  of  a  civilised  government.  The  rules  of  several 
of  these  societies  contained  articles  of  mutual  insurance 
guaranteeing  a  partial  compensation  for  losses  caused  by  theft. 
It  seemed  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  the  State  was  not 
constituted  for  the  purpose  of  attending  to  such  accidents 
as  these,  and   that  it  was  the  duty  of  private  individuals    to 


270  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

regulate  their  own  affairs.  Even  in  the  present  day  what 
England  has  borrowed  from  France  and  Scotland  is  the  shadow 
and  name  rather  than  the  reality  of  public  action.  It  was 
these  early  proceedings  which  exempted  the  English  from 
maintaining  a  regular  police.  We  may  recall  the  remark  of 
a  personage  who  had  been  robbed  on  the  high  way  :  "  At 
least,"  he  cried,  "  we  have  no  Marshalsea  !  "  This  exclama- 
tion would  have  been  appropriate  in  almost  any  part  of 
England.  In  1 839-1 840  a  law  rendered  possible  the  establish- 
ment of  bodies  of  police  in  every  county  where  they  did  not 
exist,  but  the  farmers  did  not  rise  to  the  occasion,  esteeming 
the  precaution  too  costly,  if  not  unnecessary.  It  was  not 
until  1857  that  a  police  system  was  made  compulsory  in  each 
county  and  the  public  safety  secured  by  the  hand  of  the  State. 
The  establishment  of  railways  was  permitted  by  the  parlia- 
mentary tribune  without  reference  to  any  minister  competent 
to  decide  on  such  a  question,  just  as  if  no  public  interest  were 
involved  in  the  decision,  and  it  was  solely  a  matter  of  recon- 
ciling two  private  interests,  or  giving  a  casting  vote  one  way 
or  the  other.  It  was  surprising  to  see  these  immense  mono- 
polies granted  to  perpetuity  on  very  imperfect  conditions  and 
no  adequate  guarantee,  either  in  the  interest  of  the  individual 
and  commerce,  or  for  the  safety  of  travellers."^  Similarly,  the 
ports  were  for  the  most  part  in  the  hands  of  individual  com- 
panies. Up  till  1834  the  Treasury  did  not  expend  a  single 
farthing  on  popular  education.  Private  companies,  ancient 
corporations  independent  of  the  State,  filled  the  duties  of  this 
great  public  office,  which  undoubtedly  requires  endowment  by 
a  higher  power. 

'  For  the  last  few  years  a  competent  minister  ha?  been  called  at  regular 
intervals  before  the  committees  who  sit  on  the  questions  of  the  railways. 
He  has  then  an  opportunity  of  S'ving  his  advice.  Further,  in  certain 
cases  he  has  now  the  right  to  determine  such  questions  by  a  provisional 
order  which  is  made  permanent  at  the  end  of  the  Session  if  Parliament 
is  not  averse  to  it.  In  spite  of  these  amendments,  the  organisation  is  in 
no  sense  bureaucratic ;  it  is  parliamentary  in  principle  and  judicial  in 
operation. 


THE  STATE'S   E UNCTION  AT  HOME     271 

What  must  be  noted  in  these  encroachments  of  the  in- 
dividual, as  in  those  of  the  State,  is  that  they  have  never 
encountered  any  objection  based  on  the  nature  of  the  office. 
The  State  allows  the  individual  all  that  the  individual  can  and 
will  take,  whether  it  be  public  or  private  work.  Even  in  the 
present  day  the  offices  it  withdraws  from,  or  denies  to  him, 
are  only  those  which  exceed  the  sphere  of  activity  of  a  private 
individual,  or  demand  a  special  and  professional  ability.  We 
may  further  note  that  it  is  never  a  question  of  right  between 
them  ;  the  second  point  is  the  natural  consequence  of  the  first. 
Such  a  dispute  as  that  which  was  raised  in  France  over  the 
surrender  of  the  royal  prerogatives  of  the  State  to  mixed 
juries  could  not  have  taken  place  in  England.  It  supposed 
a  boundary  philosophically  and  judicially  determined  between 
what  is  public  and  what  is  private.  In  England  the  only 
boundary  is  that  which  marks  the  point  where  the  will  or  the 
capacity  of  the  individual  stops.  The  State  solely  occupies 
what  the  individual  has  abandoned  through  indifference  or 
impotence. 

Conversely,  there  is  no  province  with  clearly  defined  boun- 
daries which  belongs  theoretically  to  private  individuals  alone, 
and  access  to  which  is,  in  principle,  denied  to  the  State.  This 
is  because  no  liberty  in  England  has  the  character  and  prestige 
of  an  abstract  and  superior  law.  The  idea  of  the  natural 
rights  of  the  man  and  the  citizen  is  foreign  to  the  British 
mind.  Even  civil  liberties  are,  in  the  eyes  of  our  neighbours, 
not  the  law  of  all  society,  but  a  historical  fact  peculiar  to  their 
country,  not  a  right  which  every  man  coming  into  this  world 
may  claim,  but  the  great  heritage  of  a  particular  race,  a  legacy 
of  the  past,  surrounded  by  glorious  memories  and  maintained 
by  an  hereditary  tendency  towards  activity  and  effort. 

The  absence  of  theoretical  ideas,  or  the  small  esteem  in 
which  they  are  held  in  most  English  parliamentary  discussions, 
has  often  been  pointed  out.  The  abolition  of  the  censorship 
furnished  a  first   noteworthy  example  of  it.      A   Frenchman 


272  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

would  have  looked  in  vain,  in  the  parliamentary  debate  which 
was  held  on  this  occasion,  for  elevated  ideas  or  lofty  phrases 
regarding  the  part  played  by  the  Press,  the  progress,  and  the 
natural  selection  which  takes  place  among  opinions  publicly 
stated  and  contested.  The  Englishman  did  not  trouble  him- 
self v/ith  all  these  subtleties.  He  beheld  a  man  entering  his 
house  and  rummaging  among  his  papers  ;  this  fancy  occasioned 
him  a  kind  of  horror.  The  general  warrant  empowered  the 
man  to  act  in  this  way,  therefore  the  general  warrant  must  be 
suppressed.  This  and  an  infinity  of  other  little  negligible 
details,  hindrances  or  difficulties,  stains  of  rust  which  set  off 
the  type  which  had  been  kept  standing  too  long,  &c.,  were 
what  these  publishers  had  to  encounter.  Here  is  evidence  of 
the  feebleness  of  the  faculty  of  abstraction,  which  could  by  a 
mental  picture  rise  to  the  general  warrant,  but  could  not  attain 
by  the  idea  to  the  principle  of  the  freedom  of  the  Press.  In 
the  Times  report  of  a  debate  held  in  the  House  of  Commons 
in  1857  o^  capital  punishment  the  principle  of  the  inviola- 
bility of  human  life  was  not  once  mentioned.  I  have  already 
recalled  how  in  1867  an  eminent  publicist,  Mr.  George 
Brodrick,  set  at  defiance  the  opposers  of  the  reform,  then 
in  preparation,  by  citing  a  single  reformer  who  considered 
electoral  franchise  as  a  right  inherent  in  the  individual.  In 
the  article  published  at  this  period,  as  in  those  to  which 
Gladstone's  Reform  Bill  have  more  recently  given  rise,  the 
only  questions  were,  to  preserve  an  equitable  balance  between 
the  different  classes,  to  obtain  an  enlightened  parliament,  and 
to  propagate  a  healthy  activity  and  interest  in  the  public 
welfare  among  the  lower  classes  of  the  nation.  These  entirely 
political  considerations  alone  found  an  echo  in  the  public  mind. 
In  such  case  where  the  idea  of  abstract  rights  had  so  little 
force  and  ascendency,  considerations  of  utility  had  naturally 
the  greatest  weight.  From  whence  arose  the  apparent  anti- 
nomy, at  bottom  very  easy  to  resolve,  that  England  is  the 
country  where  the  sphere  of  activity  of  the  State  is  usually 


THE   STATE'S   E UNCTION  AT  HOME     273 

most  restricted,  and  yd  where  State  policy,  when  there  is 
occasion  to  exercise  it,  has  most  authority  and  encounters 
least  opposition. 

The  sphere  of  activity  of  the  State  was  usually  restricted 
because  the  activity  of  the  individual  was  as  a  matter  of  fact 
very  eager,  energetic,  and  extended,  and  because  the  main- 
tenance of  each  citizen's  qualities  of  initiative  and  perseverance 
was  looked  upon  as  most  essential  for  the  public  welfare,  so 
that  even  State  policy  counselled  authority  to  abstain  as  far  as 
possible  in  order  to  leave  the  field  free  for  private  efforts. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  exceptional  cases,  when  there  was 
a  real  reason  why  authority  should  intervene,  its  intervention 
was  of  necessity  less  scrupulous,  more  decided  and  more 
radical,  than  is  elsewhere  the  case,  because  it  came  into 
collision,  not  with  an  idea  of  absolute  and  distinctly  imperative 
right,  but  with  venerable  historical  precedent. 

This  explains  many  curious  lapses  of  respect  for  individual 
liberty  ;  for  example,  the  press-gang,  which  was  never  legally 
abolished,  and,  at  the  end  of  the  last  century,  was  the  terror 
of  both  town  and  country — inhuman  captures  of  poor  men, 
who  were  surrounded,  driven  to  the  waterside  like  a  herd 
of  cattle  and  finally  transported  on  board  the  men-of-war, 
never  to  return.  These  operations  were  entrusted  to  agents 
of  the  State  who  did  not  even  have  to  reckon  with  the  habeas 
corpus,  it  being  suppressed  for  the  occasion.  Thus,  the 
respect  for  individual  liberty  and  its  most  elementary  guarantee 
were  not  able  to  balance  for  a  moment  the  necessity  of 
recruiting,  at  any  price,  the  equipment  of  the  fleet.  The 
interest  of  the  navy,  so  essential  and  vital  for  a  nation  which 
laid  claims  to  the  empire  of  the  universe,  easily  triumphed 
over  the  unconditional  and  absolute  right  that  each  has  over 
his  own  person,  and  practically  established  on  the  soil  of 
England  the  methods  employed  to  procure  slaves  in  the  land 
of  Africa.  This  right,  moreover,  is  not  so  conceived  by  the 
English  mind,  which  regards  it  merely  as  a  second   interest, 

T 


274  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

in  opposition  to  and  on  a  level  with  the  first,  without  other 
virtue  or  reason  for  preference  than  that  of  its  utility.  We 
might  also  cite  those  imprisonments,  sometimes  enduring  for 
a  lifetime,  which  were  brought  about  without  proof,  on  the 
bare  oath  of  the  creditor.  In  this  case  the  State  only  inter- 
vened, as  it  were,  as  an  obliging  intermediary  ;  it  did  not  fulfil 
the  role  which  of  right  belonged  to  it,  and  made  no  attempt  to 
control  the  legality  of  the  prosecution  and  prevent  tyranny  ; 
it  was  only  a  summary  executor  supporting  the  will  of  the 
rich  against  the  poor.  A  mitigation  of  this  oppressive  law 
resulted,  between  1813  and  1820,  in  setting  at  liberty  50,000 
persons. 

The  two  examples  I  have  quoted  are  taken  from  the  past, 
but  if  I  wished  to  find  in  the  present  a  positive  proof  that  the 
State  has  the  same  need  of  activity  as  the  individual,  and  does 
not  allow  itself  to  be  stopped  by  the  superstition  of  any  collec- 
tive or  individual  right  commanding  respect,  I  shall  only  have 
to  take  and  rapidly  analyse  the  laws  relating  to  public  hygiene. 
England  is,  we  have  often  been  told,  a  country  of  decentralisa- 
tion ;  well,  the  local  authorities  are  compelled,  whatever  the 
circumstances  or  cash  at  their  disposal,  to  carry  out  the  work 
necessary  to  procure  an  adequate  provision  of  water  for  each 
habitation,  and  to  secure  the  ejection  of  all  waste  matter  by  a 
proper  system  of  drainage.  If  they  refuse  to  take  upon  them- 
selves this  exorbitant  expense  they  are  arraigned  before  the 
court  and  served  by  a  mandamus  with  the  order'  to  comply. 
In  this  way  Lincoln,  after  a  desperate  resistance  on  the  part 
of  the  Council  and  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants,  found  itself 
burdened  with  an  expense  of  not  less  than  ^138,750.  Coer- 
cion in  this  case  was  exercised  only  on  a  corporation,  a  moral 
entity.  Is  an  individual  case  required  ?  Let  us  take  the  very 
frequent  and  ordinary  one  of  an  illness  regarded  as  contagious — 
cholera,  typhus,  diphtheria,  small-pox,  puerperal  fever,  &c.  At 
first  it  was  enough  to  inform  the  authorities,  at  the  moment 
of  decease,  of  the  illness  which  had  caused  it,  and  then  the 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  AT  HOME     275 

most  indispensable  measures  were  taken.  But  in  accordance 
with  the  law  passed  in  1887  the  obligation  to  make  a  circum- 
stantial declaration  is  imposed  upon  the  head  of  the  family,  or, 
failing  him,  upon  the  nearest  relatives  who  are  in  the  house  or 
taking  care  of  the  sick  person  ;  in  default  of  relatives,  upon 
any  one  charged  with  the  care  of  the  sick  person,  and  in 
default  of  any  such  person  upon  the  principal  tenant.  The 
doctor  who  has  been  called  in  to  the  sick  person  is  compelled 
by  law  to  inform  the  medical  officer  of  health  immediately, 
and  the  latter  is  obliged  to  visit  the  locality  and  house  affected 
without  delay,  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  illness,  indicate  the 
measures  to  be  taken  to  avoid  its  spread  and,  as  far  as  possible, 
assist  in  their  due  performance.  He  must  endeavour  to  secure 
the  isolation  of  the  sick  person.  If  this  isolation  appears 
impracticable  at  home  and  a  hospital  is  within  reach  he  must 
advise  the  conveyance  of  the  sick  person  thither  after  con- 
sulting with  the  doctor  in  attendance.  If  he  is  of  opinion  that 
the  house  or  any  objects  whatsoever  which  are  in  the  house 
ought  to  be  disinfected,  the  local  authority  compels  the 
proprietor  or  tenant  to  perform  the  disinfection,  which  is 
carried  out  officially  in  case  of  refusal,  and  at  the  expense  of 
the  local  authority  if  the  parties  concerned  are  too  poor  to  pay 
for  it.  The  local  authority  may  even,  on  the  notification  of 
the  sanitary  officer,  order  the  destruction  of  the  bed  linen  and 
other  objects  infected,  for  which  he  indemnifies  the  proprietor. 
If  we  consider  the  long  list  of  illnesses  covered  by  the 
statute  and  the  still  longer  list  of  cases  against  which  the 
legislator  intended  to  provide,  we  must  perforce  recognise  in 
circumstances  which  may  be  qualified  as  ordinary,  the  employ- 
ment of  a  power  of  coercion  which  has  no  parallel  in  France  : 
strict  orders  which  leave  no  opening  for  the  exercise  of  indi- 
vidual discretion,  an  almost  complete  denial  of  each  man's 
right  over  his  house  and  what  takes  place  therein,  and,  finally, 
the  insolent  and  arbitrary  intervention  of  the  officer  of  health, 
who  prescribes  by  minute  regulations  which  the  law  lays  down 


276  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

only  in  principle,  all  that  ought  to  be  done  in  the  interest  of 
the  public  health.  He  is  like  a  skilled  pilot  whose  presence 
suspends  the  rights  of  the  captain  ;  the  captain,  in  this  case, 
standing  for  the  mere  citizen,  master  on  board,  and  deciding 
his  own  affairs  for  himself. 

It  is  in  the  matter  of  landed  property  that  the  absence  of 
this  absolute  idea  of  right  is  chiefly  felt,  and  we  see  how, 
in  a  sense,  abstract  principles  may  become  protective  and 
conservative.  Throughout  the  whole  of  the  United  Kingdom 
the  proprietary  right  of  the  landlord  over  the  land  is  attacked 
by  two  sorts  of  enemies  :  first,  by  the  various  occupiers  and 
exploiters  of  the  soil  (and  here  it  must  be  remarked  that  this 
category  of  aggressors  can  only  obtain  satisfaction  when  the 
State  acts  as  judge  and  sovereign  arbiter)  ;  the  proprietary  right 
is  also  attacked  by  the  State,  on  its  own  account,  without  the 
excuse  of  claims  brought  forward  by  private  individuals  whose 
interests  it  espouses.  In  the  matter  of  landed  property,  therefore, 
the  State  intervenes  twice  and  in  virtue  of  two  rights.  It 
intervenes  in  its  political  character  on  behalf  of  individuals 
whose  cause  it  adopts,  and  it  intervenes  in  its  judicial  character 
for  the  satisfaction  of  its  own  claims  and  for  its  own  aggran- 
disement. 

Let  us  follow  the  fluctuations  of  the  struggle  in  Ireland, 
Scotland,  and  England.  It  assumed  a  different  aspect  in 
accordance  with  the  region  the  legal  position  of  which  was 
the  question  at  issue  ;  for  there  was  lacking  to  the  law  that 
inspired  it  the  complete  unity  resulting  from  the  right  at 
which  it  struck.  This  right,  indeed,  was  not  founded  on  an 
abstract  and  general  idea,  nor  was  it  everywhere  the  same  ; 
but  everywliere  it  was  lacking  in  consistency,  force,  and 
authority. 

In  Ireland,  the  vague  idea  of  an  ownership  in  common 
between  the  head  of  the  clan  and  its  members,  has  been 
confused  with  the  idea,  to  which  the  farmer  has  grown 
accustomed,  of  his  right  over  the  land  he  farms.     The  peasant 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  AT  HOME     277 

believes  that  his  interest  in  the  land  is  as  worthy  of  respect 
as  that  of  the  landlord  ;  he  places  the  two  interests  side  by 
side  in  working  the  property.  Public  opinion  also  was  greatly 
divided  when,  in  i860,  the  law  undertook  to  institute  single 
ownership  (wliich  allows  only  one  proprietor  for  each  estate), 
and  the  right  to  enter  into  an  agreement.  These  two 
conditions,  which  with  us  are  a  matter  of  common  justice, 
were  new  law  to  Ireland,  to  which  her  customs  rendered  her 
averse.  Ten  years  passed  before  she  came  round.  In  188 1  a 
new  legislative  measure  returned  to  the  paths  of  tradition  by 
imitating  the  system  which  obtained  in  Ulster,  in  the  principle 
of  dual  ownership  (which  allows  two  proprietors  for  each 
estate),  and  applying  it  to  the  whole  of  Ireland.  The  second 
ownership,  that  of  the  peasant,  was  manifested  by  the  "three 
F's  " — fixity  of  tenure,  which  aimed  a  heavy  blow  at  the 
proprietor's  right  of  eviction  ;  free  sale,  which  secured  the 
farmer  who  left  or  was  turned  out  the  equivalent  of  his  share 
in  the  property,  paid  either  by  the  farmer  coming  in  or  the 
proprietor,  in  virtue  of  his  right  of  pre-emption  ;  finally,  fair 
rent,  which  deprived  the  proprietor  of  the  right  to  make  his 
own  scale  of  rents,  which  he  had  been  at  liberty  to  do  under 
the  former  r^gime^  and  appointed  an  Agrarian  Commission  to 
settle  equitably  the  figure  of  the  rent  to  be  paid.  This  system, 
instead  of  quieting  the  complaints  of  the  Irish,  made  them 
louder  than  ever,  for  they  conceived  the  hope  of  soon  being 
able  to  eliminate  the  landlord  altogether,  by  increasing  their 
share  in  the  property  at  the  expense  of  his.  This  inexpiable 
struggle  still  continues.  The  Conservative  Government 
endeavoured  to  put  an  end  to  it  by  a  series  of  legislative 
measures  ;  but  although  it  has  restored  single  ownership  in 
principle,  it  could  not  undertake  to  upset  the  whole  of  the 
legal  condition  which  successive  statutes  have  developed 
around  the  opposing  principle  ;  in  fact  it  was  led  into  ratifying 
them  and  deducing  new  conclusions  from  them  ;  several 
passages  in  its  last  law  (1896)  merely  reproduce  the  provisions 


278  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

of  Mr.  Morley's  Bill,  presented  and  rejected  in  the  preceding 
year  ;  further,  it  engaged  in  a  vast  landed  and  financial  enter- 
prise, the  object  of  which  was  to  transfer  to  the  farmers  the 
ownership  of  the  estates  they  cultivated.  The  State  began 
by  advancing  a  part  of  the  price  to  the  purchasers,  it  now 
advances  the  whole  of  it.  The  repayment  is  effected  in  forty- 
seven  yearly  payments  at  2^  per  cent.  The  Government  thus 
endeavours  to  lure  the  desires  and  ambitions  of  the  Irish  into 
a  new  path  ;  it  aims  at  diverting  them  from  political  demands 
and  making  them  forget  Home  Rule,  by  which  they  had  been 
for  a  time  intoxicated.  In  any  case  this  enterprise,  cha- 
racterised by  the  creation  of  an  agrarian  fund,  which  England 
started  by  depositing  ten  million  pounds,  is  nothing  less  than 
a  friendly  expropriation  of  the  rural  gentry,  set  on  foot  by  the 
law  and  carried  out  with  the  assistance  of  public  favour. 

In  Scotland  the  Government  has  observed  the  same  policy  in 
regard  to  the  crofters  who  occupy  some  of  the  northern 
islands  and  the  adjacent  counties.  In  this  case,  too,  the 
principles  of  entire  possession  and  free  contract  have  been 
violated  in  the  person  of  the  proprietor.  The  crofter,  if  he 
fulfils  his  obligations,  cannot  be  turned  out  by  the  landlord,  nor 
can  his  rent  be  increased  ;  he  must  pay  up  arrears  ;  a  Land 
Commission  decides,  without  appeal,  on  the  cases  of  dispute 
between  landlords  and  crofters,  its  authority  embracing 
almost  every  detail  of  cultivation,  particularly  the  improve- 
ments the  crofter  may  have  effected  without  consulting 
his  landlord,  and  for  which  he  demands  compensation  at 
the  end  of  his  tenancy.  The  tenure  of  the  crofter  can  in  no 
case  be  lessened,  but  it  may  be  extended  in  consequence  of  an 
order,  addressed  to  the  proprietor,  to  let  to  the  crofter  the 
unoccupied  land  in  the  neighbourhood.  In  this  case  likewise 
the  Commission  intervenes.  But  what  was  most  remarkable  in 
the  long  debate  which  preceded  the  passing  of  the  law  was,  that 
the  right  of  property  never  figured  therein,  either  as  principle 
or  objection  ;  contingent  circumstances — the  condition  of  agri- 


THE   STATE'S   EUNCTION  AT  HOME     279 

culture  and  the  state  of  manners  and  customs — alone  were  taken 
into  consideration.  The  chief  care  was  to  give  satisfaction  to 
the  crofters  in  accordance  with  the  comparatively  old-fashioned 
ideas  they  had  preserved  up  to  the  verge  of  modern  times. 
This  seemed  the  practical,  positive,  and  expedient  course,  and 
this  expediency  inspired  the  speeches  of  every  statesman  and 
directed  the  operations  of  the  legislator.  In  this  respect  there 
is  no  difference  between  Conservatives  and  Liberals. 

In  England  the  idea  of  clan,  which  implies  ownership  origi- 
nally enjoyed  by  its  members  in  common,  is  not  only  eclipsed, 
it  is  totally  absent  ;  but  the  principle  of  individual  ownership, 
full  and  entire,  has  not  thereby  gained  ground.  The  idea 
which  presents  itself  to  the  legislator  is  that  of  mere  possession, 
of  a  tenure,  subject  in  principle  to  certain  conditions  which 
render  it  precarious.  A  discussion  was  recejitly  raised  between 
two  distinguished  legists  on  the  question  of  whether  the 
English  were  true  proprietors  or  simply  holders,  and  he  who 
advanced  the  former  argument  could  only  repeat  that,  the  pre- 
eminent dominion  of  the  sovereign  having  disappeared,  tenures 
were  so  nearly  akin  to  full  ownership  that  the  two  might  be 
confused.  However,  the  English,  when  they  have  to  decide 
the  legal  position  of  estates,  do  not  come  into  collision  in  any 
way  with  the  solid  and  undeviating  principle  of  full  dominion. 
They  have  before  them,  nominally,  an  incomplete  ownership, 
a  possession  which  time  and  circumstances  alone  have  rendered 
similar  to  full  ownership.  It  is  quite  natural  that  so  feeble  and 
abbreviated  a  conception  of  the  right  of  the  landlord  should  offer 
but  a  feeble  resistance  to  the  eager  desires  and  hopes  of  the 
farmers,  and  encourage  them  to  believe  that  they  too  have  a 
right  over  the  land  made  fruitful  by  their  labour  and  their 
money.  The  transformation  of  copyholds  into  freeholds  by 
the  redemption  of  manorial  rights  had  already  been  to  them  a 
singularly  suggestive  precedent.  At  all  events,  the  English 
landlords  have  not  found  themselves  better  prepared  for  a  resist- 
ance of  principle,  when  it  is  a  matter  of  protecting  the  culti- 


28o  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

vator  against  the  depredations  occasioned  by  game,  than  when 
it  is  one  of  the  permanent  improvements  he  has  made  at  his 
own  expense.  In  this  case,  too,  the  liberty  of  agreement  is 
openly  attacked.  At  present  there  are  rights  which  the  farmer 
may  not  forego  by  contract,  there  are  improvements  which  he 
may  make  unsanctioned  by  the  landlord  without  losing  his  right 
to  an  indemnity  determined  by  arbiters.  Yet  on  learning  the 
complaints  of  the  class  which  has  benefited  by  the  law,  and 
reading  the  propositions  of  the  publicists,  it  would  seem  that  the 
Act  relating  to  agricultural  tenures  is  only  a  timid  introduction 
to  more  radical  measures.  The  design  to  reduce  the  landlord 
to  the  condition  of  a  mere  debtee  of  a  ground  rent  is  perfectly 
obvious,  and  we  may  look  forward  to  the  day  when,  under  the 
eyes  of  the  impotent  onlooker,  the  tenants  will  cultivate  his 
estate  in  their  own  way  and  transmit  it  themselves  from  one  to 
another. 

This  is  not,  however,  the  only  threat  hanging  over  landed 
property.  Nearly  seventeen  years  ago  some  influential  political 
personages,  Conservative  as  well  as  Liberal,  expressed  a  desire 
that  portions  of  land  adapted  for  cultivation  should  be  placed  at 
the  disposition  of  labourers  in  suburban  districts.  This  idea 
was  taken  up  by  the  legislator,  and,  in  1887,  formed  the  basis 
of  a  measure  afterwards  extended  to  provincial  districts.  Every 
parish  is  now  authorised,  with  the  approval  of  the  County 
Council,  to  compel  the  landlords  within  their  circuit  to  let  out 
lands  to  them,  which  they  divide  into  allotments  and  sublet  to 
urban  or  rural  labourers  ;  and  every  District  Council  is  autho- 
rised, on  the  initiative  of  the  Parish  Council,  to  obtain  an  order 
of  expropriation  from  the  County  Council,  and  thus  acquire  by 
force  lands  which  they  let  out  on  lease  after  a  similar  division 
into  allotments.  A  resolution  of  even  more  importance  was 
taken  in  1892.  The  County  Councils  were  authorised  to 
acquire  by  amicable  arrangement  lands  which  they  divided  into 
small  or  middle-sized  lots,  not  exceeding  fifty  acres.  These 
lots,  which  correspond  in  size  to  every  degree  of  condition  of 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  AT  HOME     281 

the  peasant  proprietor,  are  destined,  in  the  idea  of  the  legis- 
lator, to  reconstitute  the  class  of  yeomen  which  the  political 
oligarchy  of  the  eighteenth  century  caused  to  disappear. 
Exceptionally  favourable  terms  were  granted  to  the  purchaser 
for  the  payment  of  the  purchase  money.  The  Council 
were  also  authorised  to  advance  four-fifths  of  the  pur- 
chase money  to  tenants  who  desired  to  acquire  the  lands 
they  cultivated.  The  Government  lent  the  necessary 
sums  when  required.  It  is  true  the  legislator  has  protected 
himself,  at  least  for  the  present,  against  the  abuse  most 
to  be  apprehended.  He  makes  it  a  condition  that  every 
such  transaction  shall  be  arranged  on  the  basis  of  a  price  or 
rate  of  interest  sufficient  to  cover  all  expenses.  Further,  he 
has  prescribed  minute  formalities,  establishing  a  complete  hier- 
archy of  control,  which  ascends  from  the  District  Council  to  the 
County  Council,  and  from  the  County  Council  to  the  Local 
Government  Board,  or  even  to  Parliament.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  even  such  curbs  as  these  will  hardly  restrain 
the  pressure  of  the  three  local  assemblies  when  they  combine. 
Henceforward  these  assemblies  were  elected  by  a  suffrage  which 
closely  resembles  and  cannot  but  become  still  more  akin  to 
universal  suffrage.  It  is  in  fact  to  people,  the  majority  or 
whom  do  not  possess  the  land,  that  a  right  of  expropriation  has 
been  granted  against  those  who  do  possess  it.  The  local 
councils  will  indubitably  hasten  to  demand  an  extension  of 
their  powers  ;  they  will  be  urged  to  the  attempt  by  their  con- 
stituents, and  pledged  to  it  by  the  legislator  himself.  The  Act 
of  1892  in  particular  contains  a  tacit  but  unmistakable  acknow- 
ledgment that  the  preseiit  regime  of  land  property  is  abusive 
and  contrary  to  public  interest,  that  the  economic  work  of  the 
eighteenth  century  has,  at  the  very  least,  gone  beyond  its 
object,  and  that  a  remodelling  is  necessary.  It  is  perfectly 
apparent  that  this  inea  culpa  will  be  heard,  and  some  day  the 
suggestion  may  well  serve  as  the  rallying-cry  of  reformers, 
more  impatient  than  the  present  legjslatc^r  and  more  inclined  to 
pursue  their  ends  by  radical  methods. 


282  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

Up  to  this  point  the  State  only  intervened  as  a  political 
sovereign  authority,  whose  endeavour  was  to  allay,  by  a  new 
division,  the  irritable  grievances  which  it  could  only  but 
inflame  ;  the  time  now  comes  when  it  enters  on  the  scene  in 
its  own  personality  and  loudly  declares  its  claim  to  become  one 
of  the  interested  parties  in  this  property,  the  possession  of  which 
it  had  usually  left  to  others.  Towards  1848  John  Stuart  Mill 
said  "These  are  the  reasons  which  form  the  justification,  in  an 
economical  point  of  view,  of  property  in  land.  It  is  seen  that 
they  are  only  valid,  in  so  far  as  the  proprietor  of  land  is  its 
improver.  Whenever,  in  any  country  whatsoever,  the  pro- 
prietor, generally  speaking,  ceases  to  be  the  improver,  political 
economy  has  nothing  to  say  in  defence  of  landed  property  as 
there  established.  In  no  sound  theory  of  private  property  was 
it  ever  contemplated  that  the  proprietor  of  land  should  be 
merely  a  sinecurist  quartered  on  it."  This  reasoning  might 
serve  to  justify  the  farmer's  contention  against  the  landlord, 
and  the  worker's  contention  against  the  idle  ;  but  John 
Stuart  Mill  pushed  it  too  far.  He  proceeded  to  assign  to 
the  State,  under  the  name  of  unearned  increment,  all  the 
surplus  revenue  which  is  neither  a  result  of  the  industry 
of  the  landlord  and  the  farmer  nor  of  the  employment  of 
their  capital,  and  is  simply  produced  by  time  and  circum- 
stances. This  theory  furnished  the  point  of  departure  for  the 
physiocratic  doctrines  of  Henry  George,  which  were  adopted 
in  England  by  Wallace,  the  emulator  of  Darwin.  It  pre- 
pared men's  minds  to  receive  these  doctrines,  and  contributed 
largely  to  their  success.  It  lies  at  the  root  of  the  nationali- 
sation of  the  soil,  a  formula  which  constantly  figures  in  the 
programme  of  the  congresses  of  the  trade  unions.  This 
theory  goes  right  down  to  the  economic  basis  of  individual 
property.  Property  is  individual,  and  must  remain  so  as  long 
as  society  finds  what  it  expects  in  the  proprietor  as  an  in- 
dividual ;  but  when  the  individual  fails  in  what  is  expected  of 
him,  society  has  no  longer  any  reason  to  support  him  j  all   it 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  AT  HOME     283 

has  to  do  is  to  takeaway  from  him  the  right  of  property,  which 
it  assigns  to  the  State. 

More  significant  still,  because  in  a  sense  more  abstract,  is  the 
theory  which  the  then  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequx^r — Sir 
William  Harcourt — put  before  Parliament  as  a  justification  of 
his  progressive  tax  on  succession.  It  was  no  question  of 
economic  interest,  but  a  right  of  the  Crown  which  gave  rise  to 
it.  The  right  which  the  State  possesses  over  the  accumulated 
property  of  the  deceased,  the  minister  said,  is  antecedent  to  any 
other.  Nature,  indeed,  gives  man  no  power  over  his  terrestrial 
goods  beyond  the  terms  of  his  natural  life.  The  right  of  a 
dead  man  to  dispose  of  his  goods  proceeds  solely  from  the  law, 
and  the  State  has  power  to  stipulate  the  conditions  and  reserva- 
tions under  which  this  right  may  be  exercised.  The  right  to  make 
a  will,  he  also  said,  is  a  creation  of  the  written  law.  In  default 
of  testamentary  dispositions  the  State  determines  the  destina- 
tion which  must  be  given  to  property. 

The  effects  of  the  law  after  it  had  been  in  force  for  two  or 
three  years  were  as  threatening  as  these  declarations  were  per- 
emptory. The  opponents  of  Sir  William  Harcourt  sincerely 
believed  that  the  new  fiscal  system  would  not  yield  the  results 
expected  of  it.  Sir  William  Harcourt  himself  was  not  very 
sure  of  a  superior  value.  The  proceeds  of  the  tax  equalled  and 
soon  exceeded  expectation  :  the  first  year  it  yielded  only  a 
million  pounds,  having  been  in  force  but  partially  for  seven 
months  ;  but  the  following  year  it  put  into  the  coffers  of  the 
Treasury  more  than  fourteen  millions,  a  figure  which  was  soon 
surpassed,  for  in  1898-99  the  receipts  attained  the  extravagant 
figure  of  j^  1 5,563,000  sterling.  The  memory  of  this  fortunate 
miscalculation  will  never  be  effaced  ;  it  will  be  present  in  the 
mind  of  every  financier  who  endeavours  to  find  a  taxable 
subject  unlikely  to  disappear,  and  taxpayers  who  cry  out  for 
form's  sake.  These  are  qualities  which  strongly  recom- 
mend a  tax  at  a  time  when  the  increase  in  all  the  Budgets, 
resulting  from  the  expenses  of  the    Army  and    Navy,  place 


284  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

statesmen  under  the  necessity  of  finding  new  sources  of 
revenue. 

But  it  is  specially  in  its  relation  with  the  Established  Church 
that  the  State  has  exhibited  the  lofty  consciousness  of  an 
omnipotence  before  which  the  most  inveterate  rights  and 
venerable  traditions  give  way.  Ecclesiastical  property  had 
for  centuries  been  subjected  to  a  legal  regime  which  the 
Government  undertook  to  re-model.  State  policy  and 
Socialism  have  perhaps  never  received  more  sureties  than  on 
this  occasion.  The  Anglican  Church,  considered  as  a  whole, 
is  not  qualified  to  hold  possession.  Bishoprics,  chapters, 
livings,  and  benefices,  as  represented  by  their  incumbents, 
each  have  a  separate  civil  personality,  and  they  only  can  be 
proprietors.  What  is  called  the  property  of  the  Church  is 
only  the  arithmetical  sum  of  all  these  private  properties,  and 
the  Church  as  a  whole  has  no  more  right  over  the  glebe  and 
tithes  of  any  parson  whatsoever  than  over  the  estates  of  any 
squire,  be  he  who  he  may.  It  is  only  by  a  misuse  of  language 
that  any  one  could  be  led  to  believe  that  the  lands,  capital, 
and  revenues  possessed  by  ecclesiastics  are,  in  any  degree,  part 
of  a  collective  property  or  great  domain  belonging  to  the 
Church. 

In  principle  it  appears  that  the  State  has  no  more  right  than 
the  Church  over  such  properties  of  tiie  latter  as  have  been 
legally  and  regularly  acquired.  As  a  rule  these  properties 
were  donations  made  by  private  individuals  to  a  living,  or  a 
certain  community,  or  else  they  are  grounded  on  immemorial 
rights  held  by  the  Church  for  centuries.  Such  was  the  case 
in  PVance  under  the  old  regime.  There  was  a  strong  feeling 
against  the  attempted  spoliation  in  and  after  1789,  which 
placed  the  properties  of  the  French  Church  at  the  disposal 
of  the  public  Treasury.  The  respect  and  consideration  with 
which  religious  foundations  are  surrounded  in  England  was 
brought  forward  as  a  contrast  to  this  act  of  violence.  This  was 
a  complete  mistake.     The  most  distinguished  British  statesmen 


THE   STATE'S   EUNCTION  AT  HOME     285 

have  not  hesitated  to  declare  that  all  ecclesiastical  goods  are 
the  property  of  the  State.  Tiiese  were  the  very  terms  made 
use  of  by  Lord  Palmerston,  and  he  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that 
the  legislature  has  the  right  and  power  to  do  with  these  goods 
according  to  the  necessities  of  the  moment.  If  people,  said 
Lord  Coleridge  on  his  part  (1870),  make  a  donation  to  the 
Church,  and  the  Church  accepts  it,  the  donation  is  made  and 
accepted  subject  to  the  sovereign  control  of  the  State,  and  in 
accordance  with  the  conditions  determined  by  the  State  in 
every  age — conditions  which  are  liable  to  modification  by  the 
power  which  determines  them.  This  theoretical  declaration 
did  not  end  the  matter.  The  administration  of  private  estates 
was  removed  from  the  lawful  possessors  and  placed  in  the 
hands  of  a  higher  Commission,  in  which  a  number  of  secular 
members,  especially  the  principal  ministers,  began  by  figuring, 
but  which  was  afterwards  chiefly  composed  of  ecclesiastics. 
The  Commission  was  appointed  to  make  a  new  division  of 
the  lands  or  revenues  thus  collected  together,  curtailing  the 
inordinately  large  and  adding  to  the  inadequately  small  :  con- 
scientiously elaborating  a  more  equitable  distribution.  This 
task  was  accomplished  to  the  great  advantage  of  the  Church 
and  the  country.  Following  this  evolution  step  by  step,  and 
minutely  analysing  its  processes,  is  it  not,  for  a  certain  class 
of  property,  precisely  that  economic  revolution  of  which  the 
Socialists  dream  for  all  classes  of  property  ?  The  fortunes  of 
private  individuals  declared  to  be  in  principle  the  property 
of  the  State,  taken  back  from  its  holders,  administered  by  a 
bureaucracy  :  the  revenues  divided  anew  by  a  higher  authority, 
not  in  proportion  to  existing  rights,  but  in  proportion  to  neces- 
sities in  accordance  with  justice  and  conjectured  expediency  ; 
what  more  do  the  disciples  of  Henry  George  in  the  United 
States  and  England  demand  ?  The  English  Parliament,  with 
perfect  tranquillity,  has  furnished  them  with  an  example  and 
most  encouraging  precedent  under  the  form  of  a  law-type 
which,  up  to  the  present,  is  special,  but  which  could  be  applied 


286  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

to-morrow  without  any  change  of  phraseology  to  the  latifundia 
of  the  great  English  landowners. 

These  examples  are  dangerously  attractive  to  the  legislator, 
all  the  more  so  because  circumstances  seem  made  to  dispose 
him  to  take  advantage  of  them.  The  position  is  not  without 
a  certain  gravity  in  the  present  day,  when  civilisation  has 
multiplied  and  complicated  the  wants  of  mankind,  while  the 
superfluity  of  comforts  and  enjoyments  has  gradually  deadened, 
in  a  whole  section  of  society,  the  inclination  for  earnest  and 
unprofitable  activity.  The  statutes  are  as  circumstantial 
to-day  as  in  the  past  ;  the  legislative  intemperance  of  Par- 
liament is  not  yet  of  that  order  which  touches  on  everything, 
but  what  it  does  touch  on  it  expressly  regulates  in  the  smallest 
detail.  Further,  a  bureaucracy  unknown  in  preceding  cen- 
turies has  begun  to  be  organised,  its  justification  being  not 
only  the  increasing  number  and  extent  of  public  offices, 
but  their  increasingly  complete  and  technical  nature,  which 
demands  a  special  training  and  professional  knowledge  on  the 
part  of  those  who  would  fill  them.  The  future  is  therefore 
not  without  a  cloud.  Yet  has  not  the  English  legislator 
already  been  seen  to  retrace  his  steps  and  re-establish  the 
liberty  he  had  for  a  moment  sacrificed  ?  For  instance,  a  law 
which,  for  the  protection  of  a  certain  class  of  individuals, 
authorised  the  inspection  of  women  by  the  agents  of  the 
police  was  recently  revoked  ;  and,  in  the  same  way,  after 
the  enormous  success  of  vaccination.  Parliament's  first  step 
was  to  prevent  those  who  objected  from  being  compelled  to 
undergo  it,  by  declaring  it  optional. 

In  short,  the  intervention  of  the  State  is  rarer  in  England 
than  in  France,  and  doubtless  it  will  never  become  so  universal 
there  as  in  our  country,  because  the  extraordinarily  active 
temperament  of  tlie  English  people  renders  it,  as  a  rule,  use- 
less and  unwelcome  ;  but  when  it  is  exercised  the  effect  is  less 
disturbing.  The  State  intervenes  with  less  hesitation  and  in  a 
more  absolute  form  than  in  France,  because  what  it  has  to  face 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  AT  HOME     287 

are  contingent  facts,  not  imperative  principles  ;  a  venerable 
possession  not  a  sacred  property.  If  the  great  qualities  of  the 
English  character — energy,  the  passion  for  action,  and  the 
desire  for  responsibility — become  weakened  by  lapse  of  time 
England  will  not  be  as  well  protected  as  we  arc  against  the 
exaggerations  of  a  State  Socialism,  which  these  forces  alone 
keep  within  bounds,  and  which  will  never  be  faced  by  the 
great  abstractions,  the  cult  of  which  in  France  is  an  inveterate 
tradition. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    STATE    AND    ITS    FUNCTION    ABROAD 

The  State  has  a  similar  ideal  abroad  and  at  home  ;  the  motive 
is  the  same,  but  the  consequences  seem  reversed.  In  essence 
the  duties  of  the  State  may  be  summed  up  in  one  :  to  do 
everything  in  its  power  to  procure  for  the  nation  the  largest 
possible  amount  of  the  species  of  happiness  it  prefers.  Now 
in  England  this  happiness  is  action.  Consequently,  nothing  is 
more  natural  and  harmonious  at  bottom  than  the  two  ideas, 
apparently  contradictory,  which  the  English  profess  regarding 
the  role  of  the  State  at  home  and  abroad.  At  home  and 
towards  the  citizens  they  desire  it  to  be  prudent,  circum- 
spect, and  even  passive  ;  abroad  and  towards  foreign  nations 
they  desire  it  to  be  active,  easily  offended,  jealous,  and 
ever  ready  to  raise  difficulties.  This  is  because  the  State 
cannot  intervene  at  home  without  restricting  the  field  of 
action  of  each  individual  ;  abroad  it  must  intervene  in  order 
to  keep  open  and  continually  extend  his  field  of  action  in  the 
five  sections  of  the  world.  Every  step  taken  by  the  Foreign 
Office  is  towards  this  end.  "  Foreign  affairs,"  said  Disraeli, 
"are  the  affairs  of  the  English  with  the  foreigner."  It  is, 
therefore,  at  bottom  the  same  sentiment  which  restrains  the 
State  at  home  and  prompts  it  to  interference  abroad. 

The  world  to  the  English  is  like  an  immense  motive  for 
exertion.     Hence    the    two    types   of  statesmen   who    arc    in 

opposition   to  each   other,  and  alternate  in   power.     The  first 

288 


THE   STATE'S   E  UNCTION  All  ROAD      289 

is  represented  by  such  personages  as  Sir  Robert  Peel  and,  more 
especially,  Gladstone.  The  school  of  Manchester  imbues  them, 
sometimes  in  spite  of  and  unknown  to  themselves,  with  its 
doctrines  ;  it  gives  the  keynote  of  their  politics.  They 
intend  to  remain  the  masters  of  the  world  by  the  sole  excel- 
lence of  a  production  on  which  they  concentrate  all  their 
resources  and  care  ;  their  sovereign  good  is  peace,  which 
opens  all  the  markets  of  the  world  to  their  merchandise. 
Peace,  free  trade,  and  the  good-will  of  nations  one  towards 
the  other,  characterises  and  sums  up  their  method  of  conduct- 
ing affairs.  They  fear,  instead  of  desiring,  an  extension  of  tiie 
Empire  ;  they  foresee  in  it  a  source  of  new  perplexities,  of 
daily  difficulties  with  other  nations  ;  they  would  readily  give 
up  the  Ionian  Islands  ^  and  the  Soudan  and  recognise  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  Transvaal.  They  believe  they  have  some- 
thing better  to  do  than  to  add  to  their  territories — which 
means  the  multiplication  of  occasions  for  disagreement  and 
strife — viz.,  to  diminish  by  every  possible  means  the  net  cost 
price  of  English  products,  and  to  master  the  whole  of  the 
inhabited  world,  not  by  force  of  arms,  but  by  cheapness. 

The  other  type  of  statesman  has  always  been  in  favour  with 
the  Tory  party.  Palmerston,  who  was  a  moderate  Whig, 
Disraeli,  and  Lord  Salisbury  sum  up  the  principal  traits  of  the 
cliaracter.  They  believe  that  the  Englishman  may  be  well  off 
with  other  people,  but  that  he  will  be  still  better  off  at  home, 
and  consequently  there  ought  to  be  no  hesitation  in  extending 
the  frontiers  of  the  ]3ritish  Empire.  To  this  end  they  employ 
an  unscrupulous  diplomacy,  and,  at  need,  arms.  Throughout 
the  universe  they  may  be  heard  answering  the  weaker  nations 
in  sharp,  incisive  tone,  an  echo  of  which  still  sounds  in  their 
voice  when  they  come  into  contact  with  the  stronger  nations. 
Wherever  their  interest  is  concerned  they  claim  it  as  we  should 
a  right  sanctioned  by  a  solemn  treaty.  They  make  themselves 
hated  by  every  other  nation,  and  this  they  know  and  glory 
in.     They  are  the  chosen  people,  the  pre-ordained  masters,  the 

'  Translatok's  Note. — The  Ionian  Islands  were  ceded  to  Greece  in  1864. 


290  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

appointed  protectors  of  the  weak.  They  feel  that,  in  this 
character,  they  ought  neither  to  commit  themselves  with 
their  inferiors  nor  become  over-much  entangled  with  their 
equals,  A  "  splendid  isolation "  is  natural  to  them.  At 
bottom,  it  is  in  the  Tory  method  of  procedure  that  the 
true  heart  of  the  nation  is  to  be  found,  and  though  at  times 
it  may  wander,  it  always  returns  thither  in  spite  of  utilitarian 
statesmen. 

This  is  what  came  to  pass  with  Gladstone.  He  entered, 
without  willing  it,  upon  the  venturesome,  long-aspersed  paths  of 
his  illustrious  opponent.  As  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  said  in  1 884  : 
"  Here  we  have  a  Cabinet  which,  when  it  arrived  at  power, 
was  animated  by  the  passionate  desire  to  restrict  our  responsi- 
bilities and  lighten  the  burdens  of  the  Empire.  No  one,  even 
in  the  Opposition  which  makes  an  everlasting  crime  of  its 
desire  to  diminish  rather  than  enlarge  the  Empire,  can  throw 
a  doubt  on  the  sincerity  of  the  Cabinet.  It  has  sought  to  rid 
itself  honestly  of  the  burden  which,  like  a  new  Atlas,  it  bears 
upon  its  shoulders.  It  has  evacuated  Candahar  and  abandoned 
the  Transvaal.  No  English  Cabinet  has  ever  given  such 
proofs  of  its  desire  to  stay  the  aggrandisement  of  the  Empire. 
Yet  it  has  increased,  and  increased  more  rapidly  under  Mr. 
Gladstone  than  under  Lord  Beaconsfield.  We  have  not 
annexed  Egypt,  but  we  hold  a  garrison  there  ;  we  have  not 
absorbed  the  Soudan,  but  an  English  army  is  on  the  road  to 
Khartoum.  We  have  annexed  a  third  of  Zululand,  the  whole 
of  Bcchuanaland,  and  all  the  coast  of  South  Africa  from  the 
Orange  River  to  Cunem,  with  the  exception  of  Angra  pequeria. 
We  have  rounded  off  our  possessions  in  West  Africa  by  the 
annexation  of  a  belt  of  coast  near  Sierra  Leone.  We  had 
sanctioned  the  annexation  of  Cameron,  but  the  Germans 
having  anticipated  us  in  taking  possession,  we  found  a  com- 
pensation in  the  annexation  of  the  delta  of  the  Niger.  We 
have  established  a  new  East  India  Company  in  the  northern 
part  of  Borneo,  and  to-day  wc  have  given  the  order  to  pro- 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  ABROAD     291 

claim  the  Britisii  protectorate  over  tiie  eastern  half  of  New 
Guinea.  This  has  no  parallel  in  our  times.  There  is  not 
another  nation  in  the  world  which  can  offer  a  similar  phe- 
nomenon. England  takes  to  expansion,  and  the  more  she  is 
restrained  by  her  rulers  the  more  she  tries  to  extend  herself. 
In  presence  of  this  great  universal  movement  Mr,  Gladstone, 
in  spite  of  the  almost  absolute  power  which  the  nation  has  en- 
trusted to  him,  in  spite  of  his  almost  passionate  desire  to  stand 
still,  is  as  powerless  as  a  child.  The  expansion  of  England 
escapes  the  will  of  those  who  govern  her." 

If  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  had  made  a  general  review  of 
the  English  acquisitions,  it  ought  to  have  spoken  of  Cyprus, 
which  became  an  English  island  by  a  secret  agreement  (1878), 
made  public  at  the  Treaty  of  Berlin.  If  it  had  included  our 
own  times  it  ought  to  have  mentioned  the  conquests  of  the 
Soudan,  Zanzibar,  Uganda,  and  Matabeleland  —  all  now 
English  provinces — the  Transvaal  deprived  of  its  indepen- 
dence, and  the  English  possessions  at  the  mouth  of  the  Niger 
recognised  by  a  treaty  with  France,  who,  threatened  at 
Fashoda,  was  obliged  to  surrender  Egypt  and  her  dependencies. 
In  short,  two-thirds — and  the  best  part — of  the  African  con- 
tinent are  occupied  not  only  by  the  interests,  but  by  the  troops 
of  the  British  Empire.  In  this  summary  review,  which  only 
takes  account  of  the  great  facts,  we  should  perhaps  pass  over  in 
silence  Wei-Hai-Wei  and  the  province  of  Shantoung,  which 
make  England  one  of  the  heirs-presumptive  of  China.  The 
Tory  system  has  decidedly  carried  the  day  in  the  councils  of 
England,  and  is  arrogantly  displayed  over  the  whole  surface  of 
the  globe. 

In  short,  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  eager  for  action,  with 
difficulty  endures  even  the  semblance  of  indolence  and  renun- 
ciation in  the  collective  entity  which  bears  its  name.  It  does 
not  desire  to  be  conqueror  merely  in  fact,  but  also  ostcn 
sibly  active,  exacting,  and  menacing.  It  is  pleased  that  it 
should  have  a  certain  quarrelsome  combativcness.     The  policy 


292  THE   ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

of  results  does  not  content  it.  When  Palmerston  said  that 
man  is  a  combative  and  quarrelsome  animal,  he  defined  himself, 
and  not  only  himself,  but  every  statesman  whose  policy  is  likely 
to  obtain  the  unconscious  and  ardent  sympathies  of  the  English 
people.  The  caprices  and  litigious  ardour  of  this  disagreeable, 
bad-tempered  person  responded  to  something  in  the  profoundest 
depths  of  British  egoism.  That  is  why  he  was  so  popular,  or, 
to  put  it  better,  so  national.  Further,  the  inability  to  conceive 
principles  in  the  independence  of  their  absolute  form  introduces 
into  the  foreign  policy  of  the  English  the  ingenuous  lack  of 
probity  which  forms  a  most  singular  contrast  to  their  clear- 
sighted morality  in  private  relations,  the  pitiless  "each-for- 
himself,"  the  harshness  to  the  weak,  and  the  lack  of  justice 
and  generosity,  of  which  they  have  too  often  given  proof. 
The  more  contemplative  races  rapidly  obtain  the  idea  of  man 
in  general,  and  this  idea  gives  rise  to  another — that  of  a  con- 
solidated humanity,  each  member  of  which  has  a  right  to  a 
uniform  treatment  at  the  hands  of  all  the  rest.  This  absolutely 
ideal  conception  they  bring  to  bear  more  or  less  upon  the 
relation  of  nation  to  nation.  They  consider  each  state  more 
or  less  as  a  member  of  the  great  human  family  ;  they  enjoin 
upon  their  government  more  or  less  the  duties  of  honour, 
loyalty,  and  justice  towards  other  nations  ;  they  even  delight 
in  their  being  sometimes  disinterested,  generous,  and  chivalrous, 
and  are  with  them  heart  and  soul  when  they  thus  play  the 
dupe.  The  sentiments  of  France  towards  Poland,  oppressed 
Italy,  and  even  Germany,  torn  by  internal  disagreements,  are 
comprehensive  examples  of  this  contemplative  philanthropy. 
The  English  know  nothing  of  it.  The  idea  of  industrious 
and  fruitful  activity  occupies  all  the  avenues  of  their  minds, 
and  any  idea  incompatible  with  it  they  will  not  entertain. 
They  do  not  conceive  the  State  in  any  sort  of  way  as  one  of 
the  members  of  a  vague  humanitarian  federation  ;  to  them  it 
is  simply  a  powerful  organ  of  protection  and  security  for  a 
certain  group  of  associated  workers  ;  and,  as  in  every  financial 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  ABROAD      293 

company,  the  members  intend  that  the  council  of  administra- 
tion— in  this  case  the  Government — shall  conceive  its  duty 
solely  towards  them,  without  a  thought  to  the  public.  There- 
fore, while  the  sentiment  of  national  solidarity  has  more  vigour 
in  England  than  in  any  other  country,  the  sentiment  of  human 
solidarity  or  of  the  sympathetic  unity  of  the  civilised  world  is 
completely  absent. 

The  Englishman — I  have  described  him  elsewhere  and  will 
not  repeat  myself — is  unprovided  with  physical  sensibility  ;  he 
has,  therefore,  no  sympathy,  but  he  is  nevertheless  capable  of 
rising  to  a  sincere  sentimentality,  to  which  Christianity  lends 
its  force.  To  this  sentimentality  was  due  the  passing  of  the 
two  great  measures  which  abolished  the  slave  trade  in  1B07, 
and  slavery  in  1B33.  But  we  must  not  be  surprised  if  during 
the  same  period  we  encounter  in  individual  cases  examples  of 
impassivity  and  barbarity,  giving  the  lie  to  the  supposed  senti- 
ments of  the  bulk  of  the  people  with  regard  to  these  two  laws, 
which  were  unanimously  demanded  and  approved.  In  Jamaica, 
on  the  first  signs  of  insurrection,  the  English  organised  the 
most  cruel  man-hunts  against  their  late  slaves  ;  army  officers 
appeared  to  delight  in  these  undertakings  as  a  sort  of  sanguinary 
sport,  and  some  of  them  even  boasted  of  monstrous  acts  which 
they  had  not  committed.  In  Africa  Jameson,  one  of  Stanley's 
lieutenants,  demanded  or  received  permission  to  be  present  at 
a  cannibal  feast  ;  a  little  girl  was  seized,  dismembered,  and 
ripped  open  before  his  eyes  without  his  moving  a  finger  to 
snatch  her  from  her  fate.  The  double  circular  of  the  Disraeli 
Cabinet  in  1875-6,  which  took  away  from  slaves  the  rights  of 
refuge  on  English  ships,  was  finally  rejected  by  public  opinion, 
but  the  mere  thought  that  it  might  be  accepted  without 
exciting  objection  indicates  that  a  whole  enlightened  section 
of  the  nation  did  not  recognise  the  authority  of  the  principles, 
and  only  admitted  them  for  the  sake  of  decorum. 

With  regard  to  the  conquered  races  who  retained  some 
sort  of  footing  in  their  own  lands,  the  conduct  ot  the  English 


294  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

has  not  been  very  different.  In  no  single  instance,  neither  in 
Canada,  the  United  States,  India,  nor  Egypt,  have  the  English 
mingled  vi^ith  the  natives  and  formed  a  mixed  race  ;  they  only 
understood  how  to  destroy  or  make  use  of  them.  The  first  of 
these  tvi^o  solutions  thev  applied  to  the  Redskins,  the  second  to 
the  Hindoos,  and  both  alternately  to  the  Irish.  Burke  has 
described  with  picturesque  eloquence  the  young  English 
officials  who  burst  upon  India  with  all  the  avarice  of  the 
century  and  the  impetuosity  of  youth  :  the  natives  had  nothing 
to  look  forward  to  but  the  indefinite  and  hopeless  prospect  of 
birds  of  prey  and  of  passage  continually  swooping  down  upon 
them  with  ever  eager  appetites.  And,  in  order  that  there 
should  be  no  misconception  in  the  matter,  Burke  adds  that, 
having  rapidly  acquired  a  fortune  by  these  criminal  methods, 
the  Englishman,  on  again  setting  foot  on  his  native  soil,  re- 
assumed  the  virtues  which  caused  him  to  make  the  most  noble 
use  of  this  scandalously  acquired  wealth  in  such  a  way  that  the 
working  man  and  the  labourer  blessed  the  just  hand  which  in 
India  had  snatched  away  the  linen  cloth  from  the  loom, 
depriving  the  Bengal  peasant  of  his  scanty  portion  of  rice  and 
salt.  At  the  time  of  the  insurrection  of  the  Sepoys  a  young 
officer  named  Hodson  took  upon  himself  to  condemn  and 
execute  the  princes  of  Delhi,  who,  through  treachery,  had 
fallen  into  his  hands  ;  and  McCarthy  testifies  that  this  act 
was  generally  appreciated  in  England  as  "  praiseworthy  and 
patriotic."  When  the  news  of  the  bombardment  of  Alexandria 
was  made  public  in  the  House  of  Commons  the  declaration 
was  received  by  an  outburst  of  spontaneous  and  resounding 
joy — "a  ringing  cheer,"  such  as  might  have  been  expected 
from  schoolboys  at  an  exhibition  of  fireworks,  not  of  an 
assembly  of  intelligent.  Christian  men  who  had  just  been  told 
that  a  town  of  two  hundred  thousand  souls  had  been  deliberately 
fired  upon  and  bombarded.  The  same  indecent  joy  was 
manifested  by  the  Tory  party  when  a  telegram  from  Captain 
Plunkett  was  read   before  the  House  to  the  following  effect  : 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  ABROAD     295 

"  Don't  hesitate  to  shoot  if  necessary."  It  was  the  equivalent 
of  another  telegram  which  made  some  noise  in  its  time  : 
"Shoot  me  these  people."  But  besides  the  fact  that  Challemer- 
Lacour,  who  wrote  these  regrettable  words,  might  have  been  a 
prey  at  the  time  to  the  intemperate  passions  which  are  the 
result  of  a  civil  war  succeeding  a  foreign  war,  we  may  say  that 
the  message  was  received  in  the  French  Chamber  only  by  men 
who  had  made  up  their  minds  either  to  condemn  him  severely 
or  to  make  a  humble  apology  to  him.  They  were  not  a 
hundred  political  men,  habituated  to  self-control,  who  mani- 
fested by  exclamations  they  could  not  keep  back  the  funda- 
mental basis  of  a  natural  barbarity.  These  men  evidently 
considered  the  Irish  not  as  fellow-creatures,  but  an  inferior 
race  against  whom  anything  was  permissible. 

But  the  English  do  not  merely  consider  or  feel  themselves 
exempt  from  the  duties  of  humanity  towards  other  nations  ; 
where  such  are  concerned  they  break  the  rules  by  which  long 
habit  has  bound  them  and  the  principles  which  they  consider 
their  special  heritage  and  make  their  boast.  The  revelation  of 
civil  liberty  was  granted  to  them  in  early  days  ;  they  have 
brought  the  protection  of  the  law  to  a  singular  perfection  ; 
they  have  recognised  on  British  soil  the  rights  of  prisoners  and 
accused.  Well,  all  these  rights  and  sureties,  which  reverence 
for  the  past  would  seem  to  protect,  vanish  into  thin  air  directly 
it  becomes  a  question  of  benefiting  men  of  another  race.  I 
need  not  go  back  so  far  as  Warren  Hastings  ;  sixty  years  ago 
we  find  in  a  distinguished  statesman,  ex-member  of  the  Cabinet 
and  ex-ambassador  in  Russia,  this  singular  absence  of  scruple. 
Appointed  governor  of  Canada,  Lord  Durham  arrived  there 
accompanied  by  a  law  which  expressly  limited  his  powers. 
He  had  barely  set  foot  in  the  country  when  he  ordered  the 
prisoners  in  his  hands  to  be  sent  to  the  Bermudas,  and  declared 
that  any  who  had  gone  into  self-imposed  exile  would  be  liable 
to  the  death  penalty  if  they  returned  to  the  colony.  This,  as 
Lord    Durham    knew  perfectly  well,  was    totally  at  variance 


296  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

with  common  law  and  even  the  most  elementary  common 
sense.  Lord  Durham  could  not  legally  transport  any  one  to 
the  Bermudas  and  had  no  authority  to  delegate  to  the  officials 
in  the  Bermudas  which  would  empower  them  to  detain  any 
political  prisoners  whatsoever.  Neither  had  he  any  right  to 
declare  that  any  prisoners  whatsoever  who  returned  to  the 
colony  should  undergo  capital  punishment.  There  was  not  a 
single  English  law  which  regarded  a  convict's  return  even  to 
England  as  a  capital  crime.  Both  these  actions  were  a 
flagrant  contradiction  of  English  law,  but  Lord  Durham  did 
not  regard  them  in  that  light.  From  the  day  when  he  had 
quitted  English  soil  to  enter  upon  Canadian  soil  he  looked 
upon  himself  as  a  dictator  and  acknowledged  the  restraint  of 
neither  text  nor  precedent  ;  he  felt  at  liberty  to  go  to  the 
length  of  the  most  absolute  despotism  without  exciting  any 
objection.  A  political  cabal  was  formed  against  him  in 
England,  but  it  did  not  prevent  this  "  Lord  High  Seditioner," 
as  the  Times  called  him,  whose  last  act  in  Canada  was  to 
appeal  to  the  feelings  of  the  colony  against  the  conduct  of 
Her  Majesty's  ministry,  from  being  welcomed  at  Plymouth  with 
all  the  enthusiasm  which  a  victorious  Nelson  or  Wellington 
would  have  received. 

In  like  manner,  after  the  riots  which  took  place  in  Jamaica, 
in  the  time  of  Governor  Eyre  (1865),  the  latter  arrested  a 
citizen  of  the  name  of  Gordon.  He  had  him  transported 
from  a  district  where  the  ordinary  law  still  obtained  to  one 
where  martial  law  had  been  established.  There  the 
unfortunate  man  found  a  court  formed  in  total  disregard 
of  the  law  and  without  any  legal  authorisation.  He  appeared 
before  this  court,  which  judged  him  on  inadmissable  evidence 
and  condemned  him  to  death.  This  sentence  was  ratified  by 
the  Government.  Eyre,  who  was  removed  by  a  committee 
of  inquiry  in  consequence  of  these  illegal  acts,  returned  to 
England.  There,  while  one  committee  was  formed  to  attack 
him,  another  was  constituted  in  his  defence,  the  latter  includ- 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  ABROAD      297 

ing  the  most  illustrious  names  in  England — Carlyle,  Tenny- 
son, Raskin,  &c.  The  Government  refused  to  bring  him  to 
justice,  the  Grand  Jury  invariably  rejected  the  demands  for 
prosecution,  and  the  Treasury  reimbursed  him  for  the  expenses 
which  these  rash  law  suits  had  cost  him. 

The  remark  has  been  made  that  many  ot  our  most 
extreme  Revolutionists  and  ruthless  Jacobins  might  have 
been  faultless  officials,  affectionate  fathers  of  families  and 
kindly  neighbours,  had  it  not  been  for  the  great  events  which 
plucked  them  from  the  conditions  of  everyday  life.  In  the 
same  way,  the  Englishmen  I  have  mentioned  were  and  might 
have  remained  scrupulous,  liberal,  and  humane  personages  if 
they  had  only  had  to  do  with  their  own  countrymen.  Once 
having  passed  the  frontier — only  St.  George's  Channel — and 
brought  face  to  face  with  strangers,  they  felt  themselves  as  it 
were  freed  from  every-day  morality.  They  were  outside  the 
grip  of  national  solidarity,  and  yet  had  not  entered  into  that 
wider  kingdom  governed  by  the  sentiment  of  human  solidarity. 
Their  actions  had  no  law  but  that  of  interest,  and  for  what 
they  might  do  a  public  opinion  could  always  be  found  ready 
to  absolve  them. 

We  have  hitherto  observed  the  English  only  at  home  or  in 
their  own  colonics,  struggling  with  races  conquered  before- 
hand, whose  independence  was  swallowed  up  in  the  immensity 
of  the  Colonial  Empire.  But  the  whole  foreign  policy  of 
the  English  Government,  both  in  the  theory  and  practice  of 
international  law,  bears  the  same  stamp.  Loyalty,  veracity, 
humanity,  and  generosity  towards  the  weak  are  with  them 
"  truth  on  this  side  of  the  Channel,  error  on  the  other."  I 
will  not  go  back  to  the  seizure  of  the  Spanish  vessels  before 
the  declaration  of  war,  nor  to  tlie  bombardment  of  Copen- 
hagen. But  in  more  recent  times  how  can  the  conduct  of 
the  Cabinet  of  Westminster  towards  Greece  in  the  Pacifico 
affair,  or  the  unwarrantable  injury  which  gave  rise  to  the  first 
war    with    China,    be  recalled     without    shame  ?      This    un- 


298  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

scrupulous  policy  was  not  merely  excused,  but  even  honoured 
in  the  person  of  Palmerston  in  the  General  Election  of  1857, 
when  nearly  all  those  who  had  criticised  the  policy  of  the 
ministry  lost  their  seats  in  Parliament.  Two  years  afterwards 
Palmerston  was  compelled  to  retire  owing  to  the  adverse 
voting  of  the  House,  which  had  been  elected  in  his  own 
image,  he  having  allowed  it  to  be  understood  that  he  was 
disposed  to  comply  with  the  demands  of  France  in  regard  to 
the  plots  hatched  on  British  soil  against  the  foreigner,  and  he 
dared  not  again  appeal  to  the  nation  in  the  matter.  This  is 
a  striking  example,  but  less  so  perhaps  than  that  of  Mr. 
Chamberlain,  of  which  I  shall  speak  later. 

It  need  not  cause  surprise  that  such  tendencies  should  not 
only  be  felt  in  practice,  but  also  appear  more  or  less  in  the 
theories  of  jurisconsults  regarding  the  law  of  nations.  A 
recent  book,  that  of  M.  Dupuis,  on  maritime  jurisprudence,^ 
furnishes  several  instructive  examples  in  support  of  such  con- 
siderations. The  Englishman  approaches  questions  regarding 
the  law  of  nations  in  a  very  different  spirit  from  ours.  He  is 
openly  averse  to  the  multiplication  of  absolute  principles,  and 
the  strict  application  of  exact  rules  proceeding  from  these 
principles.  Abstraction  causes  him  a  kind  of  embarrassment  and 
uneasiness,  he  dreads  lest  abstract  opinions  should  govern  him 
and  force  him  to  certain  conclusions  :  he  intends  to  keep  his 
liberty.  This  is  why  he  admits  at  most  a  vague  and  very 
comprehensive  principle,  drawing  from  deductions,  which  he 
modifies  in  accordance  with  circumstances  ;  he  resolves  the 
greatest  problems  as  if  they  were  questions  of  individual 
cases. 

At  the  end  of  the  last  century  we  appeared  very  eager  to 
adopt  Rousseau's  axiom  :  to  wit,  that  war  exists  between 
the  military  forces  of  the  states  and  not  between  their  civil 
elements.     In   other    words,    in    Rousseau's    eyes,  the  soldier 

•  Ch.  Dupuis,  "  Lc  droit  dc  la  guerre  maritime  d'apres  les  doctrines 
angiaises  contemporaries,"  in-yo°  (Paris,  itsyB). 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  ABROAD     299 

alone  is  an  enemy  and  ought  to  be  treated  as  such  ;  the 
private  individual  being  a  sort  of  neutral  who  ought  to  have 
all  the  advantages  of  such  a  position.  This  ingenious  anti- 
thesis interested,  captivated,  and  convinced  us,  in  consequence 
whereof  we  found  ourselves  pledged  to  the  observance  of  two 
contradictory  rules,  and  were  drawn  into  conclusions  which 
did  not  harmonise  with  French  interests.  The  abstract  and 
subtle  conception  of  Rousseau  had  no  power  over  the  English 
mind,  which  rejected  it  in  its  entirety,  only  admitting  one 
principle,  thatof  the  state  of  war,  and  accepting  the  consequences 
thereof  as  affecting  private  individuals  as  much  as  the  State. 
Thus  it  has  come  about  that  the  British  Government  hems 
private  individuals  in  with  very  strict  regulations,  which  it  can 
alternatively  enforce  or  relax  in  accordance  with  circumstances 
and  the  interests  of  the  moment.  France  and  most  of  the 
other  Powers  have  risen  to  an  increasingly  broad  and  general 
conception  of  the  position  of  neutrals  ;  they  looked  upon  the 
case  of  the  belligerents  as  an  exception,  and  took  measures  to 
restrict  this  exception  as  much  as  possible.  During  the  whole 
course  of  the  nineteenth  century  their  efforts  constantly  tended 
to  localise  the  necessities  of  war — e.g.^  to  allow  the  commerce 
of  the  neutrals  to  circulate  unhindered  around  the  vessels 
engaged  in  the  struggle.  The  English  method  proceeds  from 
a  totally  different  conception.  The  English  belligerent  only 
beholds  the  commerce  of  the  neutrals  as  an  inconvenience  it  is 
necessary  to  avoid,  a  danger  it  is  necessary  to  anticipate  ;  he 
regards  commerce  as  the  exception  ;  the  condition  of  the 
belligerent  appears  to  him  to  be  the  rule.  Now  let  us  look  at 
the  consequences  :  France  reduces  the  list  of  objects  which 
constitute  the  contraband  of  war  as  far  as  possible  ;  she  only 
allows  arms  and  ammunition — or  at  most  rice  in  her  quarrel 
with  China  ; — she  publishes  this  list  at  the  beginning  of 
hostilities  and  does  not  touch  it  again.  England  includes  in 
her  list,  besides  the  objects  enumerated  in  the  French  list, 
an  indefinite  quantity  of  commodities   which   might  be  useful 


300  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

in  carrying  on  the  war  or  in  the  maintenance  of  the  belligerents  ; 
this  list  is  not  closed,  and  an  order  from  the  Crown  can 
complete  it  at  any  time.  France  only  allows  the  strictly 
effective  blockade,  which  is  necessarily  limited  to  certain  points 
on  the  coast  ;  England,  on  the  other  hand,  allows  a  blockade 
which  may  embrace  a  long  line  of  coast.  France  permits 
only  vessels  taking  a  part  in  the  blockade  to  pursue  a  ship 
which  tries  to  force  the  passage  ;  England  permits  any  vessel 
belonging  to  her  to  enter  upon  this  pursuit  to  the  death. 
Similarly,  was  it  not  England  who  rejected  the  proposal  to  apply 
the  articles  of  the  Geneva  Convention  to  naval  war,  although 
it  was  accepted  by  all  the  other  Powers  ?  On  one  occasion 
only  did  she  decide  in  favour  of  humanity  and  civilisation,  and 
that  was  when  she  abolished  privateering  ;  but  no  one  can  deny 
that  in  1856  privateering  was  the  one  thing  to  be  feared  for 
Great  Britain,  all  that  the  world  had  to  throw  into  the  scale  to 
balance  her  naval  supremacy  ?  It  was  therefore  her  own 
interest  which  she  served  when  appearing  to  defend  the  cause 
of  civilisation.  Turning  over  the  leaves  of  M.  Dupuis'  book 
in  this  way  we  find  all  the  Powers,  and  France  in  particular, 
yielding  themselves  up  more  and  more  to  abstract  and  generous 
conceptions,  linking  them  together  with  maxims  of  dis- 
interestedness, and  confirming  and  consolidating  them  into 
principles,  whose  only  claims  to  acceptance  are  the  progress  of 
reason,  a  nicer  sense  of  justice  and  a  wider  comprehension  of 
reciprocity.  We  find  England,  on  the  contrary,  imbued 
with  a  half-unconscious  egoism,  bent  on  considering  the 
foreigner  as  an  enemy,  rebellious  and  even  impervious  to  every 
idea  which  might  help  to  wrest  questions  relating  to  the  law 
of  nations  from  the  judgment  of  private  interest  and  place 
them  before  a  higher  tribunal.  England  knows  and  feels  her 
force  and   desires  to  retain    the   liberty  of  abusing   it. 

For  twenty  years  these  tendencies  have  been  taking  ever 
deeper  root,  and  in  proportion  with  the  advance  of  civilisation 
in    the   direction   of  intellectuality  and   refinement   they   have 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  ABROAD      301 

become  more  marked  and  been  displayed  with  a  more  ingenuous 
arrogance.  This  is  largely  due  to  the  reforms  of  1867  and 
1884.  The  electoral  right  was  then  conferred  on  men  who 
had  no  personal  culture ;  an  abrupt  extension,  or — shall 
we  say  ? — lowering  of  the  base  of  power,  which  led  to  the 
reappearance  in  politics,  in  an  age  when  science  and  its 
methods  reigned  supreme,  of  psychological  conditions  unknown 
for  several  centuries.  Whereas  a  class  of  facts,  like  hygiene, 
for  example,  received  a  number  of  solutions  which  were  the 
fruit  of  conscientious  and  prolonged  labour  in  the  laboratories, 
a  question  like  that  of  Fashoda  would  be  decided  definitively 
by  peasants  and  working  men  who  have  remained  practically 
the  same  for  more  than  four  hundred  years,  and  whose 
stock  of  requirements  has  been  limited  by  the  imperfection 
of  their  sensibilities  ;  they  have  been  brought  into  but  a 
momentary  contact  with  a  civilisation  which  has  glided  over 
them,  leaving  no  trace  behind.  After  the  electoral  reform 
they  did  not  realise  at  once  the  proper  method  of  using  their 
vote,  they  neither  knew  what  opinion  to  have  nor  how  to 
demonstrate  it  ;  their  self-confidence  dates  but  from  yester- 
day, and  of  yesterday  also  was  the  reappearance,  as  in  a  stock 
long  unproductive,  of  the  concentrated,  strong  passions,  violent 
prejudices  and  abbreviated  methods  of  thought,  feeling  and 
judgment,  which  were  characteristic  of  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  centuries.  A  popular  conclusion  is  characterised 
by  the  fact  that  it  usually  springs  from  a  single  idea.  An 
intelligence  which  is  seldom  exercised  has  a  difficulty  in  find- 
ing or  retaining  several  ideas  which  limit  and  conflict  with  one 
another.  The  one  idea  therefore  develops  with  concentrated 
intensity,  encountering  no  contradiction  ;  further,  it  becomes 
attached  to  some  image  or  phrase  instead  of  remaining  a 
simple  idea  and,  for  the  same  reason  as  I  have  already  given,  it 
tenaciously  adheres  thereto.  Finallv,  the  nation  has  a  special 
predilection  for  anything  bearing  the  emblem  of  strength  and 
victory.     Even   though  it  be  strength  unmingled   with  pity. 


302  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

and  victory  unmingled  with  justice.  In  this  it  resembles  a 
child,  and  like  a  child  does  not  detest  oratorical  bombast,  but 
applauds  the  miles  gloriosus.  This  was  the  new  factor  which 
was  introduced  into  the  politics  of  England  twenty  years  ago, 
and  which,  in  the  guise  of  ancient  Conservative  institutions, 
suddenly  took  in  hand  the  conduct  of  affairs  ;  statesmen  always 
have  to  reckon  with  it  before  arriving  at  any  decision,  vying 
with  each  other  in  the  attempt  to  satisfy  it  ;  for  on  it,  after  all 
is  said  and  done,  depends  the  destiny  of  a  statesman,  his 
lengthened  stay  in  power,  and  the  eclipse  of  his  colleagues  by 
a  will  which  in   reality  is   the  will  of  the   people. 

Thus,  a  first  fact :  the  abrupt  installation  of  the  democracy 
as  supreme  arbiter  in  politics,  and  as  trustee  of  the  "  last 
word "  ;  a  second  fact  :  the  invincible  determination  on  the 
part  of  all  English  statesmen  to  conform  their  resolutions  to 
the  supposed  desires  of  the  people  and  to  give  way  to  the  mass 
and  to  the  number,  encounter  a  third  fact  :  British  Imperialism, 
radically  affecting  it  in  substance,  language,  and  methods  of 
procedure.  Imperialism  developed  first  of  all  in  the  ranks  of 
the  upper  class  ;  it  united  the  roughness  inseparable  from  the 
manifestations  of  a  strong  race  with  that  inexpressible  cold- 
ness and  disdain  characteristic  of  aristocracy  alone  ;  a  breadth 
and  variety  of  combination  which  did  not  even  exclude  a 
certain  intelligent  generosity.  Imperialism  was  then  a  doctrine 
of  gentlemen.  The  democracy,  in  bringing  it  down  to  its 
level,  caused  it  to  lose  these  elevated  attributes  ;  and  hence- 
forward it  was  merely  "jingoism,"  an  American  word  which 
betrays  its  popular  origin  and  nature  by  the  vulgarity  of  its 
articulation  and  the  discord   of  its  clashing  syllables. 

This  transformation  and  its  causes  were  rendered  apparent 
by  the  choice  of  arguments  brought  up  by  either  side  in  the 
debate  on  the  endowment  of  Lord  Kitchener.  The  conduct 
of  this  general  in  regard  to  the  Mahdists  lost  among  the  sands 
of  the  desert  has  never  fully  been  brought  to  light.  The 
telegrams  received   in   England   emanated  in  every  case  from 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  ABROAD     303 

Englisliincn  whose  interest  it  was  to  put  a  good  complexion  on 
the  affair.     There  is,  however,  reason  to  bch'cve  that  the  Sirdar 
gave  the  order   that   no  prisoners   were  to  be  made,  and  that 
every  Dervish  who  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  troops  was  to  be 
massacred  without  pity.    Several  newspapers  stated  that  after  the 
talcing  of  Khartoum,  instructions  given  by  the  absent  general 
allowed   the  English  to  violate  the  sepulchre  of  the  Mahdi  ; 
the    head    was    separated    from    the    trunk    and    delivered    to 
Gordon's  nephew,  who  kept  it  for  some  time  as  a  curiosity  ; 
moreover,  the  officers  fashioned  amulets  and  trinkets  for  their 
watch-chains  out  of  the  prodigiously  long  nails  of  the  prophet. 
The  motion  of  Mr.  John  Morley,  who,  with  respect  to  these 
scandalous  actions,  invoked   the  natural  humanity  and  piety  or 
the  English, only  obtained  51  votes  against  393.     "It  will  be  a 
day  of  evil  omen,"  added  this  profound  and  sagacious  observer  in 
conclusion, "  when  we  have  two  consciences,  one  for  the  Mother 
Country,  and   the  other  for  the  vast  territory  which   the  eye 
cannot  encompass."     It   is  interesting   to   note  Mr.  Balfour's 
answer.     He  made  no  attempt  to  take  up  the  line  of  argument 
adopted  by  his  opponent.      Humanity  and  piety  did  not  enter 
into  his  speech  ;  the  justification  he  brought  forward  was  based 
on  the  simple  fact  that  Lord  Kitchener  had  acted   according 
to  his  conscience,  and  authorised  only  what  he  believed  would 
be  to  the  political   advantage  of  the  country  which  he  served. 
Perhaps,  added  Mr.  Balfour,  with  a  slight  show  of  embarrass- 
ment, it  may  not  have  been  "  in  very  good  taste,"  i.e.y  good 
manners  had  not  been  observed.     This  was  the  only  point  the 
orator  found  it  necessary  to  reprove  in  these  hateful  puerilities 
and  revolting   profanations.     He  thus  evinced  the  barely  con- 
cealed contempt  and  discomfort  of  the  gentleman  saddled  with 
the  defence  of  conduct  he  knew  he  must  reprove  as  lightly  as 
possible,  otherwise  he  would  find  himself  out  of  harmony  with 
the   democracy,  thenceforward    sole  judge   both  of   men  and 
things. 

On  the   same  day  and   in   the  course  of  the  same  sitting  I 


304  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

find  one  simple  word  used  in  which  the  feeling  and  language 
of  the  democracy  were  equally  apparent.  It  was  in  connection 
with  the  dum-dum  bullets,  on  the  subject  of  which  Mr.  Dillon 
brought  forward  a  collection  of  evidence  and  demanded  certain 
explanations.  Lord  George  Hamilton  replied  by  the 
euphemism,  which  at  another  time  might  have  seemed 
exaggerated,  that  ordinary  balls  were  not  sufficient  protection 
for  the  troops  who  used  them.  So  that  this  terrible  projectile, 
prepared  with  the  object  of  dealing  the  greatest  possible 
number  of  mortal  wounds,  was  looked  upon  merely  as  a  pro- 
tection. The  Englishman  averted  his  eyes  from  the  wounded 
as  they  were  borne  away,  and  those  wounds  so  strangely 
aggravated  which  no  one  could  cure  ;  if  he  did  consent  to  let 
his  eyes  rest  on  them,  he  would  simply  say  that  the  Afridis 
and  the  Boers  have  firmer  flesh  than  Europeans  and  to  produce 
equivalent  wounds  the  use  of  an  extensible  bullet  is  only  fair. 
In  this  point  of  view  we  recognise  by  indubitable  signs  the 
sentiment  and  opinion  of  the  lower  classes. 

The  upper  classes  viewed  the  two  nations  in  conjunction, 
compared  one  with  the  other,  and  almost  immediately  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  English  were  the  superior.  The  mass 
of  the  people  went  further  ;  they  saw  nothing  but  the  English 
troops ;  the  Afridis  and  the  Boers  in  the  background  were 
hidden  by  dust  and  smoke  ;  what  happened  to  them  they 
cared  not,  ignoring  and  desiring  to  ignore  it.  If  an  apostle  of 
the  law  of  nations,  coming  from  the  enemy's  camp,  had  repre- 
sented to  the  English  the  horror  of  the  wounds  they  had 
caused,  they  would  have  listened  without  comprehension,  as  if 
he  had  spoken  to  them  of  abstract  beings.  Nothing  was  real 
and  substantial  to  them  but  the  Tom  and  Jack  they  knew, 
men  who  carried  the  English  colours  ;  every  method  of  "  pro- 
tecting" them  must  be  good. 

It  will  be  said  that  the  leaders  of  the  two  great  parties, 
Tory  and  Whig,  were  conscious  of  the  sort  of  degradation,  or, 
at  least,  lowering  of  tone,  their  policy  had   undergone.     They 


THE   STATE'S  FUNCTION  ABROAD     305 

experienced  the  feeling  very  strongly,  but  with  a  certain  con- 
temptuous superciliousness,  regardless  who  cared  to  indicate 
the  personage  to  whom  the  language  and  lesson  were 
applicable.  These  are  the  very  words  used  by  Lord 
Salisbury  :  "  I  have  a  strong  belief  that  there  is  danger 
of  the  public  opinion  of  this  country  undergoing  reaction 
from  the  Cobdenite  doctrines  of  thirty  or  forty  years  ago, 
believing  that  it  is  our  duty  to  take  everything  we  can,  to 
fight  everybody,  and  make  quarrels  when  we  can — that 
seems  to  me  a  very  dangerous  doctrine,  not  merely  because 
it  might  incite  other  nations  against  us,  though  that  is  not  a 
consideration  to  be  neglected.  The  kind  of  reputation  we  are 
at  present  enjoying  on  the  continent  of  Europe  is  by  no  means 
pleasant,  by  no  means  advantageous  ;  but  there  is  a  much  more 
serious  danger,  and  that  is  lest  we  should  overtax  our  strength. 
However  strong  you  may  be,  man  or  nation,  there  is  a  point 
beyond  which  your  strength  will  not  go,  and  it  is  madness  and 
it  ends  in  ruin  if  you  allow  yourself  to  pass  beyond  it.  This 
rashness  has  been  the  ruin  of  nations  as  great  and  powerful  as 
ourselves." 

After  having  quoted  these  blunt  and  impulsive  words,  Sir 
William  Harcourt  added  :  "  That  is  a  lesson  which  it  is  well 
for  us  all  to  learn.  We  have  been  told  that  we  shall  derive 
many  lessons  from  the  war — lessons  in  the  art  of  military  and 
naval  preparations.  But  there  is  another  lesson  which  far  more 
concerns  the  safety  of  this  country,  and  that  is  not  to  exasperate 
by  an  arrogant  and  insolent  demeanour  those  whom  we  desire 
to  be  our  friends,  not  to  abuse  and  insult  those  with  whom  we 
have  influence,  and  to  carry  ourselves  with  that  moderation, 
prudence,  and  self-control  which  truly  befits  the  dignity  of  an 
Empire  which  is  conscious  of  its  own  greatness  and  of  its  own 
strength." 

It  is  remarkable  that  it  was  the  chief  of  the  Conservative 
Party  who  characterised  the  policy  of  the  day  with  so  much 
clearness  and  correctness,  and  that  the  late  leader  of  the  Liberal 

X 


3o6  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

Party  found  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  quote  and  repeat  it. 
They  both  defined  or  described  the  manner  of  feeling,  speak- 
ing and  acting  proper  to  an  aristocratic  people,  rapidly 
becoming  transformed  into  a  democratic.  One  pointed  out 
the  quarrelsome  temper  of  the  nation,  its  disposition  to  fight 
against  the  whole  world,  its  passion  for  annexation  and  appro- 
priation at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  and  the  rashness  and 
want  of  foresight  which  prevents  it  from  calculating  its  forces, 
and  causes  it  to  over-estimate  their  capacity.  The  other  dwelt 
in  particular  upon  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  conventions, 
of  not  irritating  and  embittering  friendly  nations,  nor  even 
inferior  races  who  were  disposed  to  recognise  the  British 
protectorship,  by  offensive  words  ;  he  recommended  to  states- 
men, doubtless  because  he  saw  they  lacked  such  qualities, 
discretion,  propriety,  and  above  all,  the  self-possession  and  self- 
control  which  have  for  so  long  been  included  among  the 
characteristics  of  English  politicians  and  diplomatists. 

In  the  face  of  these  criticisms  a  man  was  wanted  who  would 
concentrate  in  himself  and  deliberately  embody  the  faults  of  a 
democracy,  and  insist  on  their  acceptance  in  the  province  of 
power,  who  at  one  stroke  would  sweep  away  the  pet  aversions 
of  long-established  parties,  and  knew  how  to  effect  their 
eclipse,  so  that  all  the  representatives  of  the  nation,  with  the 
exception  of  a  feeble  minority,  would  set  out  on  paths  along 
which  they  would  be  impelled  by  the  mass  of  the  people  and 
their  conductor.  Such  a  man  has  arisen,  viz.,  Mr.  Chamber- 
lain. I  have  no  intention  of  taking  up  in  detail  in  this  book 
all  the  affairs  in  which  he  has  been  concerned  ;  in  every  case 
he  was  the  voice  of  the  people,  and  embodied  the  passions  of 
the  people.  Arrogance  ?  Who  has  shown  it  more  than  he, 
when  behind  the  curtain  he  directed  the  negotiations  entered 
into  with  France  on  the  subject  of  Fashoda  ?  When  he 
insisted  that  the  claims  of  England,  perfectly  legitimate  at 
bottom,  should  be  set  forth  in  humiliating  terms,  at  the  risk 
of  war — his  secret  desire.     In  each  of  his  successive  speeches 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  ABROAD      307 

we  see  the  same  absence  of  restraint  ;  it  might  be  said  that  he 
inaugurated,  as  it  were,  a  new  diplomatic  language,  unknown 
to  his  predecessors.  The  bulk  of  the  people  trouble  themselves 
little  about  motives,  but  much  about  results,  or,  to  put  it  in 
another  way,  their  only  motive  is  the  very  result  at  which  they 
aim — an  all-powerful  England,  to  speak  frankly.  This  was 
Mr.  Chamberlain's  sole  aim  and  object,  when.  Fiance  having 
given  in,  he  continued  the  preparations  for  war,  knowing  full 
well  that  it  wanted  nothing  but  these  preparations  and  the 
sentiments  they  excited  to  place  peace  at  the  mercy  of  an 
incident ;  he  meant  to  make  war  for  the  sake  of  war,  he  wished 
to  attack  France,  no  longer  on  account  of  a  grievance,  for  that 
had  evaporated,  but  in  view  of  certain  practical  advantages 
upon  which  he  counted,  and  at  the  exact  moment  when  he 
belived  it  to  be  conquered  beforehand  by  the  enormous 
superiority  of  the  English  naval  forces. 

Nothing  could  be  more  surprising  to,  and  calculated  to 
baffle,  a  jurisconsult  than  the  negotiations  with  the  Transvaal; 
here  again  the  result  was  the  motive — i.e.^  the  maintenance  of 
the  English  supremacy  in  South  Africa  was  the  explanation 
given  of  the  policy  followed  by  the  Government.  Lord 
Salisbury  and  his  colleagues  said  the  same  thing,  and  all  the 
Press  repeated  it.  The  Jameson  incident  was  particularly 
significant.  To-day  it  seems  to  every  educated  man  that 
deliberately  formed  public  opinion  must  consider  the  Raid  as 
a  flagrant  violation  of  the  law  of  nations,  and  indubitably  an 
act  of  outlawry.  Four  centuries  ago  the  entire  Spanish  nation 
accompanied  with  their  prayers  and  regarded  with  unmixed 
admiration  the  expeditions  of  a  Cortez  or  Pizarro,  and  it  is 
certain  that  those  obscurest  classes  of  the  English  nation, 
which  have  recently  been  brought  into  prominence,  were 
similarly  one  at  heart  with  the  new  adventurer.  Mr.  Cham- 
berlain realised  this,  and  in  all  probability  was  the  instigator  of 
the  audacious  attempt,  though  when  the  Jameson  case  came 
on    he    feebly    denied    it,    or,    to   be    more    correct,    he  con- 


308  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

temptuously  admitted  the  part  he  had  taken  in  it.  "  We 
should  have  been  applauded  if  it  had  succeeded,"  was  the 
substance  of  what  his  apologists  said.  "  We  do  not  consent 
to  humble  ourselves  because  it  miscarried,"  these  bold  words 
practically  expressed  the  feeling  of  the  whole  nation. 

In  the  negotiations  with  Kruger  it  is  impossible  to  follow 
Mr.  Chamberlain.  At  the  Bloemfontein  conferences  the  list 
of  conditions  on  which  he  had  apparently  decided  to  make 
peace  was  reported,  but  when  Kruger,  after  some  demur, 
agreed  to  them,  it  was  Mr.  Chamberlain  who  found  them 
inadequate,  and  wanted  more.  Settlement  by  arbitration  had 
been  accepted  at  the  Hague  on  the  initiative  of  England,  but 
in  vain  the  two  Republics  offered  to  have  recourse  to  it.  The 
suzerainty  of  England  came  to  an  end  in  1884  ;  not  only  was 
no  mention  made  of  it  in  the  last  treaty,  but  in  the  negotia- 
tions it  was  simply  touched  upon  for  the  purpose  of  declaring 
that  it  was  now  null  and  void.  Mr.  Chamberlain  insisted  to 
the  end  on  suzerainty,  because  he  knew  it  was  repugnant  to 
the  Boers  and  that  they  would  never  ratify  it.  In  these  and 
similar  instances  we  see  a  cynical  disregard  for  conventions. 
He  is  like  a  strong  man  who  refuses  to  allow  himself  to  be 
bound  and  gets  his  hands  free ;  his  conscience  is  tranquil 
because  the  premise  he  went  upon  was,  that  the  Dutch  nation 
must  not  form  an  obstruction  to  the  English  nation,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  must  bow  to  British  supremacy. 

Therefore  Mr.  Chamberlain's  faults  never,  at  any  point, 
give  offence  to  the  democracy.  It  is  characteristic  of  the 
people  to  evince  in  their  demands  more  impatience  and  angry 
bitterness  than  the  upper  classes  ;  Mr.  Chamberlain  is  noted 
for  the  same  traits.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  people  to  take 
their  desires  for  realities.  Did  not  Mr.  Chamberlain  do  likewise 
in  the  speech  at  Leicester,  when  he  represented  Germany  and 
the  United  States  as  allies,  and  posed  as  an  intimate  of  the 
Emperor  ?  It  is  characteristic  of  the  people  to  object  to  their 
mouthpiece  retracting  anything  he  has  said  ;    when   this  ex- 


THE   STATE'S   EUNCTION  ABROAD     309 

traordinary  and  universally  censured  speech  was  attacked  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  Mr.  Chamberlain  gloried  in  every 
word  he  had  uttered  and  declared  that  he  would  not  retract  a 
single  syllable. I  It  is  characteristic  of  the  people  in  a  whole 
situation  to  consider  only  the  thing  they  have  most  at  heart ; 
their  sole  thought  was  for  the  Transvaal,  they  did  not  trouble 
about  anything  else.  Was  not  this  the  case  with  Mr.  Chamber- 
lain when  he  emptied  England  of  her  troops  and  last  cannon, 
when  he  hastily  concluded  treaties  which  had  been  dragging 
on  for  a  long  time,  when  he  yielded  to  the  claims  of  Germany 
over  Samoa,  and  the  United  States  over  the  Nicaragua  Canal, 
when  he  passively  allowed  other  nations  to  ta.ke  the  lead — 
France  at  Insalah  and  Shanghai,  Russia  in  China  and  Persia? 
It  is  characteristic  of  the  people  to  ignore  rebuffs,  to  half  con- 
sciously allow  itself  to  be  duped,  to  keep  its  eyes  fixed  on  the 
future  and  the  success  attending  an  immense  output  of  force. 
Is  not  this  what  Mr.  Chamberlain  did  when,  having  carelessly 
acknowledged  that  some  faults  had  been  committed,  he  took 
refuge  in  the  belief  that  they  would  shortly  be  repaired  ; 
when,  for  example,  he  spoke  of  the  180,000  men  Lord 
Roberts  had  at  his  disposal  ;  when  he  and  his  colleagues 
deemed  it  the  mere  pursuance  of  a  law  of  nature  that 
England  should  always  begin  with  a  defeat,  in  order  the 
more  completely  to  triumph  in  the  end  ;  when,  having 
simultaneously  received  news  of  a  victory  and  a  defeat  follow- 
ing it,  he  only  published  the  first  in  order  to  give  the  public 
at  least  twenty-four  hours  of  rejoicing  ?  Little  or  nothing 
of  all  this  would  have  been  possible  twenty-five  years  ago  ; 
the  Tories  and  the  Whigs  would  have  directed  the  policy  of 
the  country  over   the    heads  of  the  multitude,  and  would  not 

'  At  the*  time  of  the  Boiilanger  affair  tlie  General's  carrias^e  happeninij 
to  pass  through  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  he  abruptly  stood  up  and  ga/ed 
around  on  the  assembled  crowds.  He  was  in  full  uniform.  "  I  like  that," 
said  a  man  of  the  people  beside  me,  "  it's  bravado."  Mr.  Chamberlain's 
reply  too  was  mere  bravado  ;  and  in  this  we  find  the  reason  why  the 
nation  is  always  ready  to  echo  him. 


3IO  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

have  stooped  to  consult  the  passions  and  prejudices  of  the 
people  ;  something  in  them  would  have  resisted  the  desire  to 
please  the  multitude  and  humour  the  man  in  the  street.  The 
underlying  omnipotence  of  the  democracy  has  brought  about 
the  change  in  their  method  of  procedure  ;  powerless  to  stop 
themselves,  they  hurry  down  the  slope  towards  which  the 
reckless  and  cynical  personality  of  a  Chamberlain  has  led 
them.  He  is  like  a  comet  which,  coming  within  the  radius 
of  a  brilliant  and  fixed  constellation,  has  involved  it  in  a  head- 
long flight. 

Conclusion. 

Englana,  at  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century,  is  very 
different  from  what  it  was  a  hundred  years  ago.  In  fact  it  is 
another  country  altogether.  Material  civilisation  has  made 
immense  progress  between  the  two  dates.  In  1800,  only  a 
coach  service  connected  the  larger  towns  ;  now  the  smallest 
localities  have  their  railway  lines.  In  1800,  postage  was  costly, 
and  letters  few  and  far  between  ;  now  the  penny  and  half- 
penny post  daily  conveys  to  all  parts  of  England  millions  of 
letters,  despatches,  and  packets,  the  number  of  which  increases 
annually.  The  telegraph  places  under  the  eye  of  the  reader 
the  thought  which  an  hour  before  flashed  into  a  mind 
thousands  of  leagues  off;  the  telephone  adds  intonation  and 
accent.  In  1800,  no  one  would  have  believed  it  possible  that 
distances  could  thus  be  effaced  and  the  intercourse  of  minds 
established,  as  one  might  say,  from  mouth  to  ear,  between  any 
place  whatsoever  in  the  world  and  its  antipodes.  Travelling 
has  become  very  general,  on  account  of  its  cheapness.  The 
newspaper  press,  which  by  reason  of  its  high  price,  increased 
by  the  Stamp  Duty,  used  to  be  confined  to  the  middle  classes, 
has  penetrated  through  the  medium  of  the  halfpenny  paper 
into  every  stratum  of  the  population,  even  the  most  miserable  ; 
and  the  man  who  has  only  threepence  to  spend  every  morning 
gives  a  penny  for  a  paper  :   he  thus  becomes  acquainted  with 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  AH  ROAD     311 

what  happened  in  London  the  day  before,  and  what  happened 
two  days  before  in  any  part  of  the  world.  England  has  be- 
come more  and  more  comparable  to  a  vast  city — London,  for 
example,  with  Newcastle  and  Manchester  as  its  suburbs  ;  it 
now  takes  less  time  for  visits  and  communications  between 
these  towns  than  it  did  a  century  ago  between  the  West  End 
and  the  East  End.  Men  especially  have  become  more  like 
one  another.  A  common  type  has  been  formed,  defined,  and 
determined  by  the  Press,  towards  which  every  individual  is 
attracted  and  by  which  he  is  fashioned.  This,  as  we  might 
call  it,  urban  nature  of  the  relations  between  the  inhabitants 
of  a  country  89,000  square  miles  in  extent  is  certainly  the 
most  remarkable  that  is  revealed  to  us  by  observation. 

The  basis  of  society  has  undergone  a  change  similar  to  that 
of  its  exterior  conditions.  How  many  diflPerences  have  arisen  in 
this  interval  of  a  hundred  years?  From  the  eighteenth  century 
we  received  an  aristocracy  :  the  twentieth  century  gives  us  a 
democracy.  In  1800,  the  imposing  figure  of  the  justice  of  the 
peace  still  dominated  rural  life,  now  he  is  shorn  of  all  adminis- 
trative authority  :  in  the  parish,  the  district,  and  the  county, 
elected  Boards  fill  his  place.  In  1800,  an  almost  incredible 
distribution  of  the  franchise  restricted  the  suffrage  to  a  few 
privileged  persons,  now  four  million  electors  are  crowded 
within  the  precincts  of  the  "legal  country."  In  1800,  the 
working  men  had  not  one  single  material  right  recognised  by 
the  common  law  and  the  statutes  :  now  they  are  on  a  level 
with  the  other  classes,  and  as  regards  them  and  their  masters 
the  roles  have  been  reversed  to  their  advantage.  Supremacy, 
after  escaping  from  the  oligarchy,  remained  but  for  a  moment 
in  the  hands  of  the  middle  classes  :  henceforward  it  belongs  to 
the  greatest  number. 

It  is  not  only  by  this  change  in  the  disposition  of  rights,  in- 
fluence, and  power  that  the  new  century  is  distinguished  from 
the  one  which  preceded  it,  but  also  by  the  ends  to  which  it 
intends    to    apply    its    recently    acquired    forces    and    by    the 


312  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

sovereign  good  which  the  nation  now  regards  as  its  ideal. 
Gladstone  absolutely  deceived  himself  when,  in  1867,  by  the 
Reform  Bill,  the  articles  of  which,  in  spite  of  the  Conserva- 
tives, he  drew  up  in  the  most  approved  Liberal  fashion,  and  in 
1884,  in  the  statute  to  which  he  gave  his  name,  he  called 
upon  the  working  men  of  the  towns  and  the  labourers  of  the 
fields  to  take  their  place  once  and  for  all  in  the  "legal 
country."  He  believed  he  was  simply  making  a  political 
reform  :  unconsciously  he  brought  about  a  social  revolution  ; 
he  flattered  himself  he  was  only  altering  the  balance  of 
parliamentary  equilibrium  :  he  renewed  the  spirit  by  which 
the  legislature  and  the  Government  henceforward  were  swayed; 
he  imagined  that  the  new  electors  would  regulate  all  their 
proceedings  by  their  class  interests  :  he  formed  no  idea  of  the 
immense  recoil  which  would  be  caused  in  the  political  world 
by  this  sort  of  invasion  of  savages,  who  were  more  sensible  of 
impressions  than  ideas,  of  colour  than  form,  and  accustomed  to 
think  according  to  instincts  which  could  with  difficulty  be 
reconciled  to  the  logic  of  the  classes  hitherto  in  possession  of 
power.  These  lower  classes,  abruptly  brought  into  prominence, 
and  called  upon  to  take  their  share  in  their  country's  work, 
were  slow,  awkward,  and  indifferent  to  everything  save  their 
daily  needs.  In  England,  more  than  in  any  other  country, 
they  had  formed  a  compact  mass,  impervious  to  the  manner  of 
feeling  and  reasoning  of  the  elect.  The  mass  became  friable 
and  disaggregated.  By  means  of  education  and  the  news- 
papers each  molecule  of  the  mass  was  brought  into  contact 
with  new  ideas.  It  might  have  been  thought  that  the  Press 
would  take  upon  itself  the  task  of  enlightening  and  forming 
public  opinion.  It  has  done  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  aims 
not  at  instructing  and  improving  the  individual,  but  at  be- 
coming the  mouthpiece  of  the  thoughts,  good  or  evil,  which 
have  some  influence  over  him.  In  obedience  to  its  own 
interests  it  says  to  each  one  what  he  will  be  pleased  to 
hear.       Therefore,  instead   of   ridding    man    of  his   errors,  it 


THE   STATE'S   FUNCTION  ABROAD     313 

rather  tends  to  flatter,  strengthen,  and  furnish  him  with 
excuses  for  them.  The  numerous  and  rapid  veliicles  of 
opinion,  which  should  be  admirable  mediums  for  the  diffusion 
of  knowledge,  are  employed  rather  in  propagating  the 
blindest,  most  selfish,  and  unscrupulous  of  passions,  viz.,  the 
fever  for  pre-eminence,  contempt  for  justice,  inclination  to 
ignore  traditional  conventions  and  to  judge  of  the  strength 
of  a  country  by  the  violence  of  its  language,  determina- 
tion never  to  be  put  in  the  wrong,  and  abbreviated  and  simpli- 
fied logic,  incapable  of  comprehending  the  rich  diversity 
of  a  complex  reality.  The  Press  has  become  the  auxiliary 
of  barbarity.  Propagated  by  the  newspapers,  which  should 
correct  and  reform  them,  these  tendencies  have  become  by 
degrees  the  characteristic  traits  of  the  new  democracy. 

Our  object  in  this  volume  has  not  been  to  cast  the  horo- 
scope of  the  future,  nor  have  we  endeavoured,  as  will  be 
recognised,  to  bring  to  light  the  causes  already  comparatively 
deep  and  remote  which  have,  in  a  hundred  years,  completely 
transformed  the  State,  the  nation,  and  the  country.  Our  aim 
has  been  a  different  one  :  we  have  sought  further  back  than 
the  moving  picture  of  the  world  for  the  first  causes,  the 
governing  causes,  which  are  immutable  ;  we  have  followed 
them  in  their  effects,  which  likewise  escape  the  varia- 
tions of  external  circumstances.  These  effects  present 
this  peculiarity,  that  they  may  be  followed  and  re- 
cognised in  the  nation,  transformed  in  all  outward  seem- 
ing, who  have  just  begun  as  we  might  say  a  new  history. 
What  we  have  endeavoured  to  grasp  is  tlie  fundamental 
basis  of  the  English  character,  that  part  of  it  which,  for 
all  time,  and  through  each  change  of  government — 
democracy,  oligarchy,  monarchy,  republic,  free  trade  or  pro- 
tective rights — will  remain  the  same.  Indeed,  in  spite  of  the 
enormous  differences  of  character  that  it  presents  from  one 
century  to  another,  the  English  people  has  remained  and  will 
remain  in  a  high  degree  individualised,  incapable  of,  and   in- 


314  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE 

different  to  sympathy,  very  proud  even  in  the  humility  of 
an  intense  devotion,  contemptuous  of  other  nations  and 
unfitted  to  mix  vv^ith  them,  incapable  of  comprehending, 
even  from  a  distance,  the  solidarity  of  the  civilised  world, 
inclined  to  divide  questions  into  sections,  considering  them 
bit  by  bit,  vi^ith  no  thought  of  combining  them  in  the 
harmony  of  a  vast  synthesis,  employing  logic  rather  in  framing 
excuses  than  in  discovering  nevv^  horizons,  more  inclined  to 
follow  the  fluctuations  of  a  distinguished  statesman  than  to 
pull  him  up  by  a  strict  adherence  to  principles,  free  from  all 
trace  of  a  revolutionary  spirit  and  yet  abounding  in  original 

personalities I  must  stop.     I  have  said  enough  in  the  pre- 

ceeding  pages  to  enable  those  desirous  to  grasp,  under  the 
changing  mask,  the  permanent  features  of  which  the  physi- 
ognomy of  the  Englishman  is  composed.  These  features  are 
the  effect  of  the  causes  which  from  remotest  centuries  have 
affected  the  play,  always  interesting,  of  its  history,  political, 
administrative,  economical  and  social,  and  which,  moreover,  to 
a  large  extent  gives  the  movement  and  even  the  direction  of 
this  history. 

It  is  to  these  causes  that,  in  the  future,  as  in  the  past,  the 
rich  originality  of  England  will  be  due. 


INDEX 


INDEX 

( The  Roman   Numerals  refer  to  the  Pages  of  the  Introduction^ 
the  Arabic  to  those  of  the   Work  J) 


Abstraction  not  an  Eno-lish 
characteristic,  xv,  22  seq. 

Act  of  Navigation  destroys  the 
Dutch    carrying    monopoly, 

79 

Age  of  the  Later  Stuarts,  man- 
ners of,  106 

Agitation  marks  political  life, 
125  ;  all-powerful  in  Eng- 
land, 144 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  International 
Congress  of,  251,  254 

Alexandria,  bombardment  of, 
how  received  in  the  Com- 
mons, 294 

Alliance,  the  Farmers',  its  pro- 
gramme, 241 

Althorp,  Lord,  his  appeal  for 
personal  confidence,  159,  note 

Androlatry  in  English  politics, 

157 
Anglican  Church  not  qualified 

to  hold  possession,  284 


Anglicanism  characterised,  52  ; 
at  first  a  mere  expedient,  81 ; 
in  the  main  a  compromise, 
82  ;  its  attitude  to  Wesley, 
82,  86  seq. ;  dependent  on 
the  Throne,  193  ;  how  it 
became  Calvinistic,  261 

Antiquity,  the  life  of,  impossible 
of  accurate  reconstitution, 
xvi  seq. 

Arch,  Joseph,  his  work,  243 

Armada,  the,  its  dispersion  not 
the  beginning  of  English 
naval  supremacy,  76 

Aristocracy,  the,  why  still  un- 
attacked,  133;  division  of, 
145  ;  Liberal  fraction  of,  its 
ro/c,  146  ;  optimism  domina- 
ting, 146 

Art,  English,  its  impulses  and 
character,  29  seq.  ;  servility 
to  literal  imitation  exempli- 
fied,    37  ;     at    first    merely 


3i8 


INDEX 


literary,  39  ;  essentially  in- 
tentionist  and  symbolic,  39  ; 
contemporary,  lacks  balance, 
40  ;  has  no  actuality  of  en- 
vironment, 40  ;  its  employ- 
ment of  discordant  colours, 
40 

Arts,  Fine,  no  original  efflor- 
escence in  England,  37 

Assemblage,  liberty  of,  why  in- 
nocuous in  England,  126 

Assiento,  the,  81 

Association  and  assembly,  right 
of,  a  civil  not  political  liberty, 
207 

Athletics  fostered  by  conditions 
of  physical  existence,  8  ;  their 
vogue  in  England,  198 

Author,  story  of  the  conferring 
of  the  OxfordD.C.L.upon,v ; 
intimate  friend  of  Taine,  vi 
seq. ;  and  Taine,  points  of 
sympathy  between,  vii  seq.-^ 
founder  and  director  of  the 
Ecole  Libre  des  Sciences 
Politiques,  viii  seq. ;  his  Pro- 
testanism,  x  ;  his  knowledge 
of  the  British  Constitution, 
xii  ;  Mr.  Bodley's  indebted- 
ness to  his  "  Etudes  de  Droit 
Constitutionnel,"  xiii  ;  his 
blindness,  xx  ;  his  method 
identical  with  Taine's,  xxi 

Authority,  its  present  un- 
limited credit,  213 


Bacon  a  mere  dialectician,  28 
Bain  influenced  by  Comte,  42 
Balfour,  Mr.  A.  J.,  his  reply  to 
Mr.    Morley    re     Khartum, 

303 
Barbarity,  English,  in  Jamaica 

and  Africa,  293 
Beauty  defined,  28 
Bentham  a  utilitarian,  44 
Bible,    the,    one    reason    why 

popular  in  England,  34,  note 
Biology,    English    attitude   to- 
wards until  i860,  45 
Blockade,respective  English  and 

French  attitude  towards,  300 
Bloemfontein  Conference,  Mr. 

Chamberlain's  conditions  at, 

308 
Bodley,  Mr.  J.  E.  C.,his  method 

of   work,  xxii  ;   exemplified, 

xxiii  seq. 
Bramwell,  Lord,  his  criticism  of 

Stephen's    codification,    172, 

175 
Brodrick,  the  Hon.  G.,  on  the 

principle     of     parliamentary 

representation  (1867),  148 
Bronte,  Charlotte,  paints  pathos 

of  moral  struggles,  31 
Brougham,  Lord,  his  criticism 

of  English  law-making,  171 
Brown,  Ford  Madox,  founder  of 

the    pre-Raphaelite     School, 

38  ;    his   antagonism  to   the 

French  School,  38 


INDEX 


319 


Buckle  narrow  in  outlook,  32 

Bureaucracy,  how  prevented  in 
England,  268,  seq. ;  begun  of 
late  years,  286 

Burke,  his  dislike  of  abstrac- 
tions, xiv,  19  ;  on  young 
English  officials  in  India,  294 

Burne-Jones  a  pupil  of  Ruskin, 

Business  energy,  English,  ex- 
emplified, 9 

C-ffiSAR  on  the  ancient  Ger- 
mans, referred  to,  58  seq. 

Cairns,  Lord,  and  proportional 
representation,  150 

Calvinism,  how  regarded  in 
England,  261 

Cant,  English,  protects  the 
national  faith,  44;  its  attitude 
to  new  philosophical  theories, 
121 

Carlyle  on  English  reserve, 
116;  on  conservatism,  121 

Catholicism  characterised,  51  ; 
compared  with  Protestantism, 

53 
Celts,    the,    how    far    blended 

with  the  Anglo-Saxons,  63 
seq. ;  no  intellectual  influence 
on  the  Anglo-Saxons,  65  seq. 
Chamberlain,  Mr.  J.,  defended 
by  Gladstone  re  inciting  to 
violent  demonstration,  129  ; 
his    unfaithfulness    to    party 


principles,  161  ;  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  faults  of  the 
democracy,  306  seq.;  probable 
instigator  of  the  Raid,  307 ; 
his  cynical  disregard  for  con- 
ventions, 308  ;  his  concessions 
to  foreign  nations  sum- 
marised, 309 

Character,  English,  generali- 
sation lacking  in,  17  ;  silent 
endurance  the  true  key  to,  17 

China,  first  war  with,  caused 
by  an  unwarrantable  injury, 
297 

Churchill,  Lord  Randolph,  his 
unfaithfulness  to  party  prin- 
ciple exemplified,  156  ;  /'en- 
fant terrible  of  his  party,  160 

Class  inequalities  increasing, 
1 30  seq.^  22 1 

Classes  the,  gradually  becom- 
ing parties,  231  seq. 

Climate,  responsible  for  the 
creative  imagination,  13 

Climate,  English,  its  normality, 
4  ;  influences  adversely  sen- 
sation and  perception,  1 1  ; 
induces  religious  thought,  14, 
introspection,  15,  taciturnity, 
16 ;  its  effects  on  the  fine  arts, 

37 

Coast-line,  English,  its  indent- 
ation, 5 

Cobden  quoted,  "the  minority 
has  only  one  right,"  150 


320 


INDEX 


Coleridge,  Lord,  on  ecclesiasti- 
cal property,  285 

Colonisation,  causes  of  its  slow 
progress,  79  seq. ;  transforms 
the  English  character,  80 
seq. 

Combination  of  workmen,  legis- 
lation against,  247 

Commercial  legislation  in  Eng- 
land, 222  seq. 

Competition  characteristic  of 
economic  England,  129 

Comte,  Auguste,  his  influence 
in  England,  42  ;  reproached 
by   Mill    re   spiritual   world, 

44 
Conquest,  the,  fusion  after,  how 

fostered,  72  ;  when  complete, 

74 
Contemporary  life  abroad,  why 

easy     to     understand,     xviii 

seq. 
Coolness,  English,   due  to  dul- 

ness  of  physical  imagination, 

12 

Darwin,  his  method  of  study, 

46 

Declaration  of  Right,  the,  in- 
volves the  right  of  rebellion, 
128 

Degeneration  of  the  agricul- 
tural labourers,  242 

Democracy,  its  advent  to  power, 
210  ;  the   supreme  arbiter  in 


politics,  302  ;  its  attitude  to 
the  enemy  in  war,  304 

Democratic  supremacy,  dangers 
of,  212 

Dillon,  Mr.  J.,  on  use  of  Dum- 
dum bullets,  304 

Disraeli  (Lord  Beaconsfield), 
"  his  concessionary  princi- 
ple "  characteristic  of  both 
parties,  145  ;  and  propor- 
tional representation,  150  ; 
tolerance  of  his  inconstancy 
to  principles,  160  ;  refuses 
slaves  right  of  refuge  on 
English  ships,  293 

Dissent  saved  English  liberty, 
261  ;  history  of,  a  summary, 
261  seq. 

"  Don't  hesitate  to  shoot  if 
necessary,"  295 

Dum-dum  bullets,  British  use 
of,  304 

Dupuis,  M.,  his  book  on  mari- 
time jurisprudence,  examples 
from,  298  seq. 

Durham,  Lord,  his  treatment 
of  Canadian  prisoners,  295 

Ecclesiastical      Commission 

Court,   285 
Electoral      reform      and       the 

representation   of  minorities, 

147 
Eliot,  George,  paints  pathos  of 
moral  struggles,  31 ;  her  Tom 


INDEX 


321 


TuUiver  an  example  of  satis- 
fied life,  134 

Ellen  borough,  Lord,  on  the 
death  penalty,  179 

Emerson  on  the  piratic  settlers 
of  Britain,  quoted,  67  ;  on 
English  reserve,  quoted,  1 14 

Empire,  British,  impossible 
without  the  King,  191 

Energy,  English,  its  causes 
ceasing  to  operate,   11 

England,  agricultural  and 
pastoral,  75  ;  not  first  in  the 
field  of  civilisation,  77  ;  her 
natural  advantages  in  Ame- 
rican colonisation  described, 
77  seq. ;  supreme  over  seas, 
80  ;  and  Spain  as  colonising 
powers,  contrasted,  84  ;  when 
and  how  ceasing  to  be  purely 
agricultural,  89 ;  her  treat- 
ment of  her  Celtic  neigh- 
bours, 93  ;  contrasted  with 
the  other  members  of  the 
United  Kingdom,  93  seq.  ; 
how  indebted  to  Scotland  and 
Ireland,  99  ;  not  only  an  is- 
land but  a  continent,  lOO  ; 
under  absolute  rule,  209,  an 
oligarchy,  210,  the  demo- 
cracy, 210  ;  an  ethnical 
quantity,  230  ;  lacks  probity 
in  foreign  relations,  292  ; 
progress  of,  since  1 800,  sum- 
marised, 310  ad  fin. 


English  legislators  in  France 
(1903)  illustrate  a  national 
foible,  xxxii 

Englishman,  the,  learns  little 
by  travel,  xxviii  seq. ;  his 
habits  abroad,  xxix  seq. ; 
under  fire,  12;  his  cant 
protects  his  faith,  44 ;  at 
home,  liberal,  hospitable,  and 
easy,  98  ;  "  the  provincial  in 
Europe,"  loi  ;  a  foreigner 
everywhere,  102  ;  his  indi- 
vidualism, 105  ;  his  attitude 
to  sexual  relations,  106  ;  his 
inhumanity,  107  seq.;  his 
coarseness  and  brutality,  108  ; 
permanence  of  his  religious 
feeling,  109  ;  his  lack  of 
external  impressions  exem- 
plified, 1 10 ;  his  sincerity,  1 1 1 ; 
his  frankness,  striking  exam- 
ples of,  112  seq. ;  unsociable, 
114;  various  quotations  re- 
specting, 11^  seq.;  his  love  of 
an  incognito,  117;  his  love  of 
adventure  and  fearlessness  of 
the  unknown  characterised, 
117  seq.y  what  due  to,  118,  ex- 
emplified,! 1 9,contrasted  with 
the  French,  1 1 9 ;  his  conserva- 
tism only  superficial,  121  ;  his 
first  attitude  to  discoveries  and 
inventions,i2i;  ascitizen,i25 
seq.  ;  not  naturally  a  gentle- 
man, 134  ;   not  a  pure  utili- 


322 


INDEX 


tarian,  137  ;  loves  action  for 
its  own  sake,  198  ;  his  choice 
of  political  regime^  2 30  ; 
capable  of  sincere  sentimen- 
tality, 293 ;  does  not  mix 
with  native  races,  294  ;  has 
no  love  for  abstract  principles, 
298 

Exodus  from  the  land,  some 
causes  of,  226  $eq.  ;  its  extent, 
241  seq. 

Expansion,  British,  a  summary 
of  recent,  290  seq. 

Expansionist  type  of  statesman 
characterised,  289 

Expropriation  of  land,  com- 
pulsory, recognised  by  the 
State,  280  seq. 

Eyre,  Governor,  in  Jamaica, 296 

Ezra-Seaman  on  England's 
colonising  power,  quoted, 
102 

F's,  the  Three,  in  Ireland,  228, 

277 
Factory  legislation  supported  by 

the  landowners,  237 
Factory  Laws,  their  effects,  248 

seq. 
Faith,   religious,   sometimes  an 

agent      of     tyranny,      260  ; 

necessary  to  the  English  and 

why,  264 
Family   life    until    recently  an 

absolute  monarchy,  215 


Farmers'  Alliance,  the,  its  pro- 
gramme, 241 

Farmers  and  agricultural  class, 
240 

Farms,  large,  are  they  increas- 
ing ?  240,  note 

Faraday,  his  method  of  study, 

46 

Fashoda  affair  decided  by  pea- 
sants and  workmen,  30 1  j 
Mr.  Chamberlain  directs  ne- 
gotiations concerning,  306 

Father,  "  the  governor "  in 
England,  217  ;  the  English, 
a  Roman  paterfamilias^  218  ; 
contrasted  with  the  French, 
218 

Foreign  policy,  England's,  in- 
creasingly arrogant  and  why, 
301 

Fortescue  on  the  Englishman 
as  a  robber,  quoted,  108 

Freeman    narrow    in    outlook, 

32 
French  and  English,  opposition 

in  methods  of  thought,  xiv 
Froude  narrow  in  outlook,  32 

Gainsborough  an  isolated  per- 
sonality, 38 

Gaskell,  Mrs.,  paints  pathos  of 
moral  struggles,  31  ;  her 
Margaret  Hall  types  the 
English  lack  of  external  im- 
pressions, 1 10 


INDEX 


323 


Generalisation,  power  of,  limi- 
ted in  English  character,  xv, 
17,  20  ;  its  disadvantages 
exemplified  by  the  author 
and  by  Taine,  xv  ;  PVench 
method  of,  criticised,  xvi 
ieq.  ;  Greek,  exemplified, 
18  ;  opposed  to  action,  19  ; 
English  weakness  of,  mani- 
fested in  legislation,   166 

Gentry,  landed,  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  233  seq. 

George,  Henry,  his  doctrines 
recognised  in  principle,  285 

Germans,  ancient,  their  institu- 
tions described,  59  seq.  ;  their 
traits  contrasted  with  those 
of  the  modern  English,  61 
seq. 

Giffen,  Sir  R.,  on  diminishing 
inequality  of  fortune,  224, 
note 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,  and  Home 
Rule,  97,  155  ;  defends  Mr. 
Chamberlain  when  charged 
with  inciting  to  rebellion, 
129  ;  on  the  principle  of 
Parliamentary  representation, 
148  ;  and  proportional  repre- 
sentation, 150  ;  attitude  of 
early  Unionists  towards,  160  ; 
tolerance  of  his  inconstancy 
to  principles,  160  ;  his  reason 
for  giving  labourers  the  fran- 
chise,   243  ;    of    the    Man- 


chester School,  289  ;  enters 
on  a  policy  of  expansion, 
290 ;  self-  deceived  in  his 
franchise  extension,   312 

Goschen,  G.  J.  (now  Lord), 
on  diminishing  inequality  of 
fortune,  224,  note 

Government,  essentials  of  all 
forms  of,  158  J  centralised, 
its  unique  antiquity  in  Eng- 
land, 267 

Grote  narrow  in  outlook,  32 

Groups :  the  race,  229 ;  the 
classes,  231  ;  the  gentry, 
233;  the  farmers  and  agricul- 
tural class,  240  ;  the  leaders 
of  industry  and  the  operative 
class,  245  ;  the  religious  sects, 
259 

Guarantees  of  personal  liberty 
and  property,  202  seq. 

Hamilton,  Lord  George,  his 
reply  to  Mr.  Dillon  re  Dum- 
dum bullets,  304 

Harcourt,  Sir  Wm.,  his  justifi- 
cation of  Succession  Duties, 
283  ;  on  the  dangers  of 
aggressiveness,  quoted,  305 

Henry  VHL,  his  assumption  of 
the  Supremacy,  why  success- 
ful, 192 

Historians,  English,  influenced 
by  contemporary  interests, 
32 


324 


INDEX 


Hobbes  an  English  metaphysi- 
cian, 41 

Hodson,  his  execution  of  the 
princes  of  Delhi,  294 

Homogeneity  of  the  English  of 
ancient  date,  266  seq. 

House  of  Lords,  not  an  object 
of  deep-seated  animosity,  137 

Humanitarian  legislation  of  the 
gentry,  236 

Humanity  consolidated,  the 
English  have  no  idea  of, 
292 

Humour,  English,  its  charac- 
teristics, 13;  compared  with 
French  wit,  13 

Hustings,  suppression  of,  its 
real  significance,  127 

Huxley,  on  distinction  between 
atheism  and  agnosticism, 
quoted,  44  ;  his  method  of 
study,  46  ;  his  anecdote  of  a 
Cambridge  professor,  47 

Hygiene,  laws  relating  to,  ana- 
lysed, 274  seq. 

Imperialism,  its  development, 

302 
Independent       Labour      Party 

criticised,  259 
Individual,  the,  and  his  function 

in  the  State,  197  ;  unfettered 

by  the  State,  271 
Industrial     centres,     rise     and 

character  of,  90 


Influences  moulding  a  country, 
3  seq.  J  general,  shaping  a 
nation,  58 

Innovations,  their  slow  but  sure 
movement,  139 

Ireland,  always  regarded  as 
inferior  and  contemptible,  92, 
295  ;  the  conquest  of,  a  war 
of  extermination,  92  ;  Eng- 
lish confiscations  in,  93  ; 
her  treatment  by  Parliament, 
94  seq. ;  a  foreign  country 
to  the  English,  96  seq. ;  and 
Home  Rule,  97  seq. ;  the 
struggle  for  the  land  in, 
examined,  277 

Jamaica,  man-hunting  in,  293 
Jameson  Raid,  the,  Mr.  Cham- 
berlain probable  instigator  of, 

307 
Jameson,   Stanley's    lieutenant, 

his  conduct  in  Africa,  293 
Jingoism  the  imperialism  of  the 

democracy,  302 
Judge,    the,    his    discretionary 

power,  164 
Jusserand,  M.,  on  Celtic  intel- 
lectual influence,  referred  to, 
66 

Khartum,  the  truth  about,  not 

known,  302 
King,   the  national    symbol  of 

authority,  182  ;  the  apex  of 


INDEX 


325 


a    pyramid,    187  ;    necessary 

to  the  unity  of  the  Empire, 

191 
Kitchener,  Lord,  arguments  on 

his  endowment,  302 
Kruger,     Mr.      Chamberlain's 

negotiations  with,  308 

Labour,  parliamentary  con- 
trasted with  legal  attitude 
towards,  165 

Labourers,  agricultural,  their 
degeneration,  242 

Land,  exodus  from,  some  causes 
of,  226  seq. ;  purchase  in 
Ireland,  228  ;  its  anomalous 
position  characterised,  235  ; 
proprietory  right  in,  how 
interfered  with  by  the  State, 
276  ;  struggle  for  in  Ireland 
examined,  277  ;  tendency  to 
peasant  ownership  of,  277, 
280  ;  crofters'  struggle  for 
in  Scotland,  278  ;  compul- 
sory letting  and  expropria- 
tion of,  280  seq. ;  nationali- 
sation, theory  of,  started  by 
Mill,  282 

Landowner,  the  English,  his 
intense  conservatism,  235  ; 
his  humanitarian  legislation, 
236  ;  his  support  of  factory 
legislation,  237  ;  his  support 
of  the  Six  Hours'  Bill,  237, 
note;    why    he    recommends 


Protection,  238  ;  his  admini- 
strative dispossession,  239 

Language,  English,  its  shaping, 
72  seq. 

Latin  civilisation,  English  inter- 
course with,  how  and  when 
begun,  67  seq. 

Latin  influence  on  the  earlier 
English  w^riters,  70 

Law,  various  forms  of,  163  ; 
common,  basis  of  civil  and 
criminal  legislation,  163  ; 
in  England,  not  allowed  to  be 
interpreted  by  the  adminis- 
trative authority,  167  ;  its 
making  does  not  proceed  by 
general  enunciations,  168  ; 
its  defective  phraseology, 
how  caused,  170 ;  abortive 
attempts  at  codification  of, 
172  ;  criminal,  Stephen's 
attempted  codification  of, 
173;  English  and  French 
contrasted,  175  ;  influence 
of  public  opinion  on,  exem- 
plified, 177;  its  frequent 
transgression  leads  to  reform, 
177  seq. 

Laws,  frequently  temporary, 
169  ;  general,  avoided  in 
England,  169 ;  their  com- 
plexity and  accumulation, 
170 

Leaders  of  Industry  and  the 
Operative  Class,  245 


326 


INDEX 


Legislation,  manifests  English 
weakness  of  generalisation, 
1 66  ;  English,  contrasted 
with  French,  167  ;  commer- 
cial, its  history  in  England, 
222  %eq. 

Legislative  procedure,  why 
dilatory,  136  seq. 

Leibnitz  opposed  by  Locke,  43 

Liability,  unlimited,  whv 
defended,  223 

Liberty  of  assemblage,  and  the 
revolutionary  spirit,  125;  why 
innocuous  in  England,  126  ; 
liberty,  civil,  defined,  201  ; 
personal,  how  protected,  201, 
209  ;  civil,  summary  of  laws 
securing,  202  seq. ;  English 
and  French  contrasted,  205 
seq.  ;  a  civil  not  political 
liberty,  207  ;  not  necessarily 
perfect  because  protected  by 
full  representation,  209 ;  testa- 
mentary, discussed,  217  seq. 

Liberties,  political,  summarised, 
207  ;  political,  how  per- 
fected, 208  ;  civil,  a  historic 
fact  not  a  natural  heritage, 
271 

Literature,  English,  its  leading 
characteristics,  30  ;  early 
English,  characterised,  JO  seq. 

Local  Government  Act  passed 
by  Conservatives,  157  ;  legis- 
lation, why  a  revolution,  239 


Locke  an  English  metaphy- 
sician, 41  ;  opposes  the  doc- 
trine of  innate  ideas,  43 

Lodge,  Sir  Oliver,  his  work  on 
electricity,  48  ;  his  views  on 
spiritualism,  50 

Loisy,  the  Abbe,  how  regarded 
in  France  by  clergy  and  laity, 
xxiii  seq. 

Macaulay  illustrates  the  Eng- 
lish historian's  method,  xxvi  ; 
narrow  in  outlook,  32 

Manchester  School,  the,  charac- 
terised, 289 

Manufacturers,  their  attitude  to- 
wards labour  legislation,  246 

Married  Women's  Propertv 
Acts,  216 

Martineau,  Harriet,  beauty  of 
her  language,  73 

Maxwell,  how  his  works  should 
be  read,  49  ;  on  the  question 
of  origins,  50 

Melbourne,  Lord,  on  Queen 
Victoria's    marriage,  quoted, 

Metaphysicians,  English  : 
Hobbes,  Locke,  Spencer,  41 

Metaphysics  contrary  to  the 
English  mind,  xiv,  22 

Method,  literary,  English  and 
French    contrasted,  xxvi  seq. 

Mill,  James,  ignores  the  doc- 
trine of  innate  ideas,  43 


INDEX 


327 


Mill,  John  Stuart,  influenced  by 
Comte,  42  ;  maintains  that 
everything  is  the  result  of 
experience,  43  ;  his  attitude 
towards  the  spiritual  world, 
44 ;  anecdote  of  his  frank- 
ness, 113;  contrasts  English 
reserve  with  French  socia- 
bility, 114;  his  remedy  for 
defective  phraseology  in  law, 
172  ;  on  ownership  of  land, 
quoted,  282 

Milton  paints  the  influence  of 
the  will,  31 

Mind,  operations  of  the,  English 
and  French  compared,  25  seq. 

Missionaries,  English,  their 
characteristics,  10  ;  English, 
examples  of  the  national  spirit 
of  adventure,  119 

Monarchy,  the  form  of  govern- 
ment most  intelligible  to  the 
masses,  1 80 ;  its  psychological 
supports  in  England,  184  ; 
the  basis  of  English  national 
history,  187;  the  most  ancient 
element  of  theEnglishsystem, 
188  ;  the  symbol  of  national 
unity,  188  ;  the  symbol  of 
national  independence,  191  ; 
its  character  when  omnipo- 
tent, 209 

Montesquieu  on  religion  in  Eng- 
land, quoted,  85  ;  on  English 
reserve,  quoted,  114 


Moral  being,  the  source  of 
English  strength  and  ideals, 

23 
Morley,  Mr.  John,  on   British 

inhumanity  at  Khartum,  303 

Native  races,  no  mixing  with 
by  English,  294 

Naturalism  foreign  to  the  Eng- 
lish mind,  22 

Navigation,  Act  of,  destroys 
the  Dutch  carrying  mono- 
poly, 79 

Neo-trade  unionism,  its  ideas, 
256,  and  failure,  257 

Neutrals,  British  attitude  to- 
wards contrasted  with  foreign, 
299 

Nonconformists,  summary  of 
Acts   relieving,  263  teq. 

Normans,  the,  their  various 
elements,  69 

North  American  Colonies, 
some  reasons  for  their  revolt, 
189 

Novel,  English,  succeeds  Shake- 
speare, 34  ;  character  of,  35 
seq. ;  represents  real  life,  35  ; 
compared  with  French,  35  ; 
no  dramatic  unity  in,  36 

Oligarchy,  England  gov- 
erned by,  210 

Opportunism  in  party  politics 
exemplified,   154  seq. 


328 


INDEX 


Outdoor  relief,  its  effect  on  the 
working  classes,  247  seq. 

Fall  Mall  Ga%ette  quoted  re 
Gladstone's  change  of  front 
in  foreign  policy,  290 

Palmerston,  Lord,  on  ecclesias- 
tical property,  285  ;  an  ex- 
ample of  British  combative- 
ness,  292  ;  his  lack  of  scrupu- 
lousness condoned,  298 

Parish  Councils,  their  effect,  244 

Parliament  represents  classes, 
not  individuals,  148  ;  does  not 
fulfil  the  essential  conditons 
of  government,  158  ;  why 
England  has  never  suffered 
from  its  inherent  weakness, 
159  ;  has  never  known  a 
third  party,  and  why,  160 ; 
claims  complete  control  of 
legislation,  167 

Parnell  and  his  negotiations 
with  English  parties,   154 

Parties,  division  of  men  into, 
how  brought  about,  152; 
their  cynical  indifference  to 
principle  exemplified,  1 54  seq.^ 
161 

Party,  choice  of,  how  made, 
142,  and  why,  153 

Passivity,  English,  its  effects 
and  real  significance,   127 

Peasantry,  English,  its  degene- 
ration, 243 


Peel,  Sir  R.,  tolerance  of  his 
inconstancy  to  principles, 
160 

Perception,  its  images  confused 
and  rare  in  the  Englishman, 
24 ;  mechanism  of,  English 
compared  with  French,  in 
vocabulary,  25  seq.^  in  the 
sentence,  27 

Philosophers,  English,  not  meta- 
physicians, 41 

Physical  conditions  in  England 
compel  constant  effort,  6  seq.^ 
and  induce  effort  for  the  sake 
of  effort,  8 

Physical  imagination,  English, 
lethargic  and  dull,  12 

Physics,  English  attitude  to- 
wards until   i860,  45 

Poggio,  on  the  English  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  quoted,  74 

Political  life  in  England  marked 
by  agitation,  125  ;  convictions 
not  deep  in  England,  143 

Politicians,  certain,  their  per- 
sistence in  particular  reforms, 

139 

Poverty  a  disgrace  in  England, 
and  why,  130 

Pre-Raphaelite  School  not  sim- 
ply artists,  39  seq. 

Prhentement  tV Englescherie  dis- 
appears, 72 

Press,  freedom  of,  a  civil  not 
political  liberty,  207 


INDEX 


329 


Press-gang,  how  defended,  273 

Privateering,  why  abohshed  by 
England,  300 

Probity,  Engh'sh  lack  of  in 
foreign  relations,  292 

Property,  distinction  between 
landed  and  personal  in  Eng- 
land, 225  ;  landed,  its  privi- 
leged position,  226  ;  recent 
legislation  striking  at  the 
root  of,  228  ;  landed,  causes 
of  its  depreciation,  238 

Proportional  representation,  why 
unknown  in  England,  149 

Prose,  its  tardy  development  in 
England,  27  seq. 

Protection,  why  supported  by 
the  landowners,  238  ;  why 
disclaimed,  245  %eq. 

Protestant,  French,  his  ad- 
vantages, xi  seq. 

Protestantism  characterised,  52 

Psychology,  experimental, 

England  first   in,  42 

Puritanism  a  religious  indivi- 
dualism, 82  ;  its  intensity  of 
faith  made  fine  colonists,  83; 
pre-eminently  the  creed  of 
the  early  emigrants,  84 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  his  con- 
trast of  the  English  and 
Dutch  navies,  quoted,  76 

Reformation,  the,  creates  a 
new  people,  81 


Religion,  Anglicanism,  52,  81 
seq.^  193,  261,  284  ;  Calvin- 
ism, 261  ;  Catholicism,  51 
leq.;  Dissent,  261  seq. ;  Faith, 
260,  264  ;  Protestantism,  xi, 
52  ;  Puritanism,  82  seq.;  Re- 
formation, 81  ;  Wesley,  85 
seq.  [See  under  respective 
heads.) 

Renaissance,  the,  difficult  to 
reconstitute,  xvii  seq. 

Revolution,  the  industrial,  of 
the  1 8th  century,  89  seq. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  an  iso- 
lated personality,  38 

Riches  a  quasi  virtue  in  Eng- 
land, 130 

Right,  no  absolute  idea  of,  in 
England,  271  seq. 

Rossetti     a    pupil    of    Ruskin, 

38 
Rousseau,    his    theory    of    war 

rejected  by  the  English,  299 
Royer-Collard,  referred  to,  xiv  ; 

on  the  power  of  abstraction, 

quoted,  19 
Ruskin,  his  pupils,  38  ;  on  the 

purpose  of  art,  quoted,  39,41 

Salisbury,  Lord,  and  the  Irish 
Party,  155  ;  I' enfant  terrible 
of  his  party,  160  ;  on  the 
dangers  of  aggressiveness, 
quoted,   305 

Scepticism  characterised,  262 


330 


INDEX 


Science,  English  method  of 
treatment  of,  47  ;  its  ultimate 
ends,  English  ideas  of,  48 

Scientific  study,  English  method 
of,  46 ;  order  and  unity,  how 
understood  in  England,  48 

Scotland,  her  laws  and  customs, 
wherein  differing  from  the 
English  do.,  95  seq. ;  her 
antipathy  to  English  ideas, 
sentiments,  and  customs,  97 

Sects,  the  religious,  259 

Sensations  feeble  and  rare  in 
the  English,  21  seq. 

Sentimentality,  English,  abo- 
lishes Slave  Trade  and  slavery, 

293 
Settlers,  early,  in  Britain,  pirates, 

66 

Sexual  relations,  how  regarded 
by  the  Englishman,  106 

Shakespeare,  pictures  the  human 
will,  31  ;  instances  the  gifts 
and  weakness  of  English 
genius,  32  ;  a  depictor  of 
souls,  33  ;  his  prosody,  33  ; 
the  novel  succeeds  his  plays, 

34 

Shelley  sees  in  Nature  only  his 

dreams,  15 
Six  Hours'  Bill  (1846)  supported 

by  the  landowners,  237,  note 
Slavery,  abolition  of,  293 
Slaves  refused  right  of  refuge  in 

English  ships,  293 


Socialism,Continental,too  flabby 
for  the  English,  225 ;  in 
England  described,  258  seq. 

Soldiers,  English,  their  coolness 
what  due  to,  12 

Soil,  English,  its  fertility,  6 

Spartans,  English  comoared 
with,  34 

Spencer,  Herbert,  an  English 
metaphysician,  41  ;  in- 
fluenced by  Comte,  42  ;  a 
utilitarian,  43  ;  his  treatment 
of  the  idea  of  God,  45  ;  his 
method  of  study,  46  ;  his 
story  of  the  association  de- 
prived of  its  raison  cCetre^  1 38 

Sport  in  England,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  a  physical  need,  9  ; 
its  vogue,  198 

Squire,  the,  from  1 700  to  1832, 
his  unique  position,  233 

State,  the,  functions  of,  dis- 
charged by  individuals,  e.g.^ 
police,  269,  railways,  ports, 
education,  270  ;  its  inter- 
vention often  unscrupulous 
and  radical,  273  seq.-,  its 
lofty  omnipotence  exempli- 
fied, 282  seq. ;  has  control  of 
all  ecclesiastical  property, 
285  ;  its  intervention  rarer 
in  England  than  in  France, 
286 
Statesmen,  English,  their  care 
to   have  a  programme,  143  ; 


INDEX 


331 


their  fatalism  in  the  face  of 
agitation,  144;  two  types  of, 
288 

Succession  and  testamentation, 
English  laws  of,  their  effects, 
219  ;  Succession  Duties,  the, 
283 

Suffrage,  the,  continually  wide- 
ning, 209  ;  effect  of  its 
widening  on  foreign  policy, 
301  ;  the  widening  of,  in 
1867  and  1884  a  social 
revolution,  312 

Supremacy,  the  Royal,  no  longer 
necessary,  193 

Survival  of  the  fittest  charac- 
teristic of  English  life,  130 

Tacitus  on  the  ancient  Ger- 
mans, referred  to,  58  seq. 

Taine,  an  intimate  friend  of 
the  author,  vi  seq. ;  and 
author,  points  of  sympathy 
between,  vii  seq. ;  and  the 
religious  training  of  his 
children,  viii  ;  his  method  in 
the  "  Histoire  de  la  littera- 
ture  anglaise,"  x  ;  his  method 
in  the  first  period  of  his 
work,  XV  ;  criticised,  xvi  seq. ; 
his  quotation  from  "  Tom 
Brown's  Schooldays,"  1 7  ;  on 
Bacon,  28  ;  on  the  novel,  35 

Tait  and  his  views  on  spirit- 
ualism, &c.,  50 


Tenant  in  tail,  his  freedom,  227 

Tennyson,  his  "  Ulysses " 
quoted,  17  ;  beauty  of  his 
language,  73 

Testamentary  liberty  in  Eng- 
land, discussed,  217  seq. 

Theoretical  ideas,  absence  of, 
in  Parliamentary  discussion, 
exemplified,  271 

Thompson,  William,   how  his 
works  should   be   read,   49  ; . 
on  the  question  of  origins,  50 

Tocqueville,  on  the  French 
Revolution,  quoted,  132  ; 
his  query  to  an  American 
woman,  216 

Trades  Unions,  their  perfected 
organisation,  132  ;  their  ac- 
tivity and  difficulties,  253; 
character  of  their  Congresses, 
254 ;  their  Parliamentary  com- 
mittee and  its  work,  254  seq. 

Transvaal,  Mr.  Chamberlain's 
conduct  of  negotiations  with, 

307 
Tyndall,  his  method  of  study,  46 

Unearned  increment  the 
starting-point  for  land  na- 
tionalisation, 282 

United  Kingdom,  the,  neither 
a  political  nor  moral  unity,  98 

VoLNEY  on  English  reserve, 
quoted,  115 


332 


INDEX 


Voltaire  on  religion  in  England, 

quoted,  85 
Voluntary  action   the   national 

ideal,  16 

Wages  dissociated  from  charity, 
248 

Wales  first  represented  in  Par- 
liament, 93 

Watts,  Mr.  G.  F.,  a  pupil  of 
Ruskin,  38 

War  :  British  attitude  towards 
neutrals,  299  ;  blockade, 
how   regarded    by    England, 

Wealth,  Britain's  great  natural, 
221  ;  inequality  of,  now  di- 
minishing, 224,  note ;  national' 
ideas  of  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  245 

Wesley  opposed  by  the  Angli- 
cans, 82 ;  aims  only  at  a 
revival  of  religion,  85  seq. ; 
character  of  his  religious 
opinions,  86 ;  consequent 
results,  86  seq. ;  his  narrow- 
ness   exemplified,    88  ;     in- 


fluence of  his  earnestness 
and  sincerity,  88  seq. 

Will,  human,  as  depicted  in 
English  literature,  31 

Woman,  English,  her  energy 
exemplified,  10 ;  married, 
why  dowerless  in  England, 
215  ;  a  revolution  in  her 
legal  position,  216 

Wordsworth  depicts  spiritual 
impressions,  15 

Workmen,  English,  superior 
energy  of,  9  ;  legislation  for 
benefit  of,  summarised,  250  ; 
contrasted  with  French,  25 1; 
character  of,  251  ;  and 
French,  their  differing  eco- 
nomic attitude,  252 

Workmen's  combination,  legis- 
lation against,  247 

Wycliffe,  his  prose  referred  to, 

71.73 

Yeomen,    measure    to    recon- 

situte,  280 
Young  man,  the  English,  217 
Younger  sons,  their  value,  219 


The  English  People 

A  Study  of  Its  Political  Psychology.  By  £mile 
BouTMY,  Membre  de  L'Institut.  Translated  by 
Elsie  English.     8°. 

This  is  the  third  volume  of  M.  Boutmy's  which  has  been  translated  into 
English,  his  "  Studies  in  Constitutional  Law  "and  "The  English  Constitu- 
tion" being  well  known  to  English  readers.  M.  Boutmy's  new  book  is  the 
fruit  of  profound  study  and  rich  experience  of  men  and  things  in  England. 
It  comes  at  an  opportune  moment,  for  the  British  nation  is  now  passing 
through  what  will  probably  be  regarded  by  posterity  as  one  of  the  turning- 
points  of  its  history. 

The  book  is  written  with  the  author's  habitual  distinction  of  style  and  out- 
look, deals  with  subjects  of  daily  and  vital  interest,  and  will  not  fail  to  sustain 
to  the  full  his  already  brilliant  reputation. 

English  Literature  and  Society  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century 

By  Leslie  Stephen,  author  of  "  Hours  in  a  Library,'' 
"  Studies  of  a  Biographer,"  etc.     12°       ,  /z^/ $2.00 

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of  illuminating  remarks.  The  lectures  show  an  adequate  knowledge,  and  a 
truly  critical  temper.  They  make  the  book  very  well  worth  reading.' — JV.  Y. 
Times. 

Asia  and  Europe 

Studies  Presenting  the  Conclusions  Formed  by  the 
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the  Relations  between  Asia  and  Europe.  By 
Meredith  Townsend.  New  Cheaper  Edition. 
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know  the  world.  An  eastern  colony  of  our  own,  a  leading  factor  in  the 
Chinese  settlement,  and  a  marvellously  increasing  export  trade  throughout 
the  East,  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  understand  the  people  with  whom  we 
are  having  such  relations. 

"Mr.  Townsend  gives  valuable  food  for  reflection  ;  he  knows  his  subject 
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terian  Banner. 

New  York-G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS-London 


The  Society  of  To-Morrow 

A  Forecast  of  its  Political  and  Economic  Organiza- 
tion. By  G.  DE  MoLiNARi,  Correspondent  de 
rinstitut,  and  Editor-in-Chief  of  "  Le  Journal 
des  Economistes." 

Translated  by  T.  H.  Lee-Warnek,  with  a  letter  to  the  pub- 
lisher frona  Frederic  Passy,  and  an  Introduction  by  Hodg- 
son Pratt. 

It  also  includes  as  one  of  its  appendices  an  article  by  Edward 
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to  the  United  States  of  War  and  preparation  for  War  from 
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A  forecast  of  political  and  economic  organization,  aiming  to  show,  as 
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privileged  classes  interested  in  maintaining  the  policy  of  war  and  aggression. 
What  iVI.  de  Molinari  writes  under  this  head  is  of  the  utmost  value,  andwill 
strengthen  the  hands  of  those  engaged  in  the  crusade  of  peace._  Taking  it  as 
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dangers  which  menace  human  society  and  of  the  best  way  of  dealing  with 
them. 

A  History  of  Mediaeval  Political  Theory 
In  the  West 

By  R.  W.  Carlyle,  C.  I.  E.,  and  A.  J.  Carlyle,  M.A., 
Chaplain  and  Lecturer  of  University  College, 
Oxford.     3  volumes.     8°.     Each  .         .   net  $3-5o 

(      Volume  I.  ready  ;  Volume  II.  ready  shortly. 

A  companion  work  to  Bryce's  "  Holy  Roman  Empire." 

The  subject  which  is  dealt  with  is  strictly  a  history  of  theory,  not  of  insti- 
tutions. In  the  Middle  Ages,  as  at  other  times,  the  two  things  are  closely  re- 
lated to  each  other, — theory  never  moves  very  far  away  from  the  actual  con- 
ditions of  public  life;  but  yet  the  two  things  are  distinct,  if  not  separate. 

The  work  commences  with  the  second  century  and  comes  down  to  the  work 
of  the  political  theorists  of  the  sixteenth  and  early  seventeenth  centuries < — 
that  is,  to  the  time  when  the  specific  characteristics  of  modern  political  theory 
began  to  take  shape. 

The  Wealth  of  Nations 

By  Adam  Smith.  Edited  by  Professor  Edwin 
Cannan.     Two  volumes.     8°. 

This  famous  work  by  the  father  of  modern  political  economy  has  continued 
a  standard  for  more  than  a  century.  A  new  edition  is  now  offered,  carefully 
prepared,  with  elaborate  notes  by  Professor  Edwin  Cannan,  who  is  a  well- 
known  English  authority  on  political  economy. 


New  York-G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS— London 


Date  Due 

DEC  3  -^t 

MAY  2  9 

1980 

<|) 

JN327 


B6 


Bontmj^,  E.G. 

The  English  people. 


